Darkness Unvanquished
by aRiddikulusRavenclaw
Summary: Everything is going according to plan after the war ends. At least, until the eighth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts rolls around. Hermione's life changes forever that night, irreversibly intertwining her life with Draco Malfoy's. When people start dying, the two unlikely friends must find out why and put a stop to it. CONSIDERING A REWRITE—LEAVE OPINION IN COMMENTS
1. Prologue

A/N: I am wishy-washy. I can't decide whether to write this or not. So. It's back up again. Forgive me for being...me...I guess.

For those who haven't yet read this, here is a bit of info you might be interested in: I didn't kill off Fred, Tonks, or Remus in this story, so pretend like that didn't happen in HP7. Otherwise, everything is the same. Be aware that it makes a significant time jump. About six years. Because I can, that's why.

Also. The HP Universe doesn't belong to me. Just this plot idea. So. Moving on.

* * *

Prologue

 _2 May 1998, Hogwarts  
_

* * *

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, may I have a word?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked in his quiet but commanding way.

"Of course," Hermione answered immediately.

She beckoned to her two best friends and they followed Kingsley out of Hogwarts castle and onto the grounds. Harry, who was still a bit shell-shocked from his final confrontation with Voldemort, stared at the grass beneath his feet. Ron fidgeted nervously while he waited for Kingsley to say what was so important. Hermione just stood there patiently, watching Kingsley's impassive expression.

"I know it's a bit soon," Kingsley finally said, "but I have an offer for the three of you."

Harry lifted his gaze, surprised.

"We have suffered too many losses in this war, many of which were Aurors. We need to hire replacements immediately for the cleanup that is going to be taking place. As the interim Minister of Magic, I am offering the three of you positions in the Auror Department immediately, without the requirement of passing your NEWT exams." Kingsley held his hands behind his back regally.

"Oh, I don't think I can do that," Hermione said, ever the level-headed one of the trio. "I never really wanted to be an Auror in school. Plus, I still want to take my NEWTs. For me, you know?"

Kingsley nodded. "I understand entirely, Hermione. If there's anything I can do for you, though, don't hesitate to ask. And if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Kingsley."

"What about you, Harry? Ron?"

Ron nodded his head enthusiastically. "I'm in. Quite frankly, I never want to set foot in this school ever again."

"Can't say I blame you," Kingsley chuckled.

"Harry?" Hermione touched his arm gently. "What are you thinking?"

His face was twisted in confusion and anguish. He was clearly conflicted about the right course of action to take. After a long silence, he finally shook his head. "No. I'm done with Dark wizards. With Dark anything."

"Oh." Kingsley looked surprised. "Are…are you sure?"

"Positive. I think, after everything I've done for the Wizarding world, I deserve to be a bit selfish now."

Hermione smiled indulgently at him. "Yes, Harry. You most certainly do. So what will you do now if you're not going to be an Auror?"

Harry shrugged. "All I really want to do right now is spend time with Ginny." He glanced somewhat apologetically at Ron, who waved a hand in dismissal. "I think I'll come back to school in September, just until I figure out what else I want to do."

"Don't be doing anything…unspeakable with my sister, mate. Mum would never forgive me." Ron stared at him meaningfully.

Harry smirked. "Sure."

Hermione didn't miss the glint in his eyes that said, what you don't know won't kill you. She didn't say anything, though. Because Harry was right; he did deserve to be selfish for once. A part of her—mind, it was a very small part—didn't want to return to school if Ron wouldn't be there. But it wasn't as if she wouldn't see him whenever it was possible. She'd have to convince him to come visit whenever the school had a Hogsmeade weekend.

"Well, I can't fault you for turning down the offer," Kingsley said to Harry. "And I'm thrilled to have you join the Aurors, Ron."

Ron grinned widely. "Thanks, Kings."

* * *

 _19 July 1998, Ministry of Magic_

* * *

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, the Wizengamot hereby finds you not guilty of the crimes of which you have been accused, due to the fact that you were underage when they were committed. You are free to go."

Draco heaved a sigh of relief for his own sake.

"In addition," the random Wizengamot member continued, "the Ministry has decided to relinquish hold of Malfoy Manor and the Malfoy vaults at Gringotts."

Lucius and Narcissa both straightened in their seats, which Draco knew meant they were relieved as well.

"However," interrupted the head of the Wizengamot, Alfred Hollyfeather, "Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, you stand accused of aiding and abetting a tyrannical wizard, and have been found guilty. The only reason you are not headed straight for a cell in Azkaban is because Harry Potter vouched for you. He claims you acted under duress and, when given the chance to defect safely, did so. Do you have anything to add?"

Lucius stood up slowly. "No, sir. I believe Mr. Potter has provided sufficient detail."

Hollyfeather cleared his throat. "Very well. It is the ruling of this court that you will be sentenced to house arrest for no fewer than ten years and charged a reparation fee of twenty million galleons."

Lucius nodded serenely and retook his seat.

"Narcissa Sheridan Malfoy, you are also convicted of aiding Dark wizards in a time of war. However, as your infractions were relatively minor, you will be placed under probation for a period of time that will be determined based upon your behavior toward the Wizarding community. Do you have any objections?"

Narcissa shook her head, but said nothing.

"Very well. The Malfoy family is excused; you will be escorted home by two Aurors, who will then secure your home. Mr. Malfoy, you will relinquish your wand before you leave the Ministry." Hollyfeather waved his wand, and it emitted a chime, signaling the end of the session.

Draco and his parents were quickly ushered home, where they convened in the library to enjoy tea served by the house elves. Lucius sat in his wingback chair stiffly, clearly feeling out of his element without his wand. Narcissa sipped at her tea delicately, a thoughtful look on her face.

"What's on your mind, Mother?" Draco finally asked after having watched her for several minutes.

"Well, I've been thinking about what I can do to prove to the Ministry that I'm sincere in my loyalty changes. What do you think about a banquet, where all proceeds will be used to rebuild Hogwarts and help the war orphans?" She tapped her delicate fingers on the arm of her chaise lounge.

Draco nodded. "That's a good idea," he mused, "but I think you would almost have to have a theme of some sort, like…honoring the Golden Trio." He rolled his eyes at the idea, but knew it was likely necessary.

"While a bit tacky, that is still an excellent idea, Draco." Narcissa pursed her lips. "And I think it should take place the night before the children return to Hogwarts."

Lucius looked between his wife and son, but refused to take part in the conversation. He was already furious enough that he was stuck in his home without the use of magic for a decade. Life couldn't get much worse, in his opinion.

"Agreed. Perhaps it should be an annual banquet?" Draco suggested.

Narcissa nodded. "I think I will go start a list of ideas with Keely."

Draco smirked. "Are you going to make the poor elf brush your hair while you do?"

"Come now, Draco. You know better than anyone just how good she is at party planning." Narcissa waved her hand airily as she left the library in search of her favorite house elf.

Lucius regarded Draco for a long time before finally speaking. "I hope you are aware that you will still be required to complete your marriage to Astoria Greengrass after she has completed school."

"Of course, Father. I wouldn't dare shirk my duties as the Malfoy heir." Draco fought hard to hide his irritation at the reminder.

"I should hope not." With that, Lucius stood up and left the library.

Alone for the first time all day, Draco slumped in his chair. Of course his father would still expect him to marry Astoria. She was still at Hogwarts and would be starting her fifth year in September. Here he was, just barely eighteen, and his supposed fiancé wasn't even fifteen herself. It felt wrong somehow. That wasn't even considering the fact that he couldn't stand the Greengrass family.

Of course, it definitely helped things that Astoria was stunningly gorgeous, even at her age. As shallow as it seemed, it was the only reason Draco was willing to move forward with the engagement. As such, he had been determined for years that whatever marriage he eventually had would be successful and better than the strained one his parents shared. Draco also promised himself daily that he would be a better father than Lucius ever was. No child deserved to grow up the way he had. Those two goals gave him a tiny sliver of hope that maybe he'd learn to love Astoria with time.

* * *

 _26 June 1999, Hogwarts_

* * *

Harry stared openmouthed at the Ministry official standing in front of him. "I'm sorry, what?"

Nolan Pennyworth cleared his throat uncomfortably, still holding out the scroll to Harry. "Apparently the deed was misplaced. Deputy Minister Weasley found it when he was assisting in the cleanup of the file room."

Harry glared at Pennyworth. "I know what Arthur's job title is, thank you. The man's practically my own father."

"I—I'm sorry—I didn't mean to offend," Pennyworth stuttered. "The Senior Undersecretary to the Minister asked me to give this to you— "

"I know what Percy's job title is, too, Pennyworth. What I want to know is why neither of them bothered to tell me."

Pennyworth gulped and looked toward the temporary stage set up in front of the Black Lake, where Arthur and Percy were both deep in discussion with Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Er— "

Harry shook his head. "Never mind. I'll ask them later."

"Here you go, sir. Sorry again for the inconvenience." Pennyworth scurried away before Harry could lose his temper again.

Harry stared down at the scroll—the deed—to his ancestral home in Ardwell. Nobody had ever told him that the Potter family had a manor—or the forty acres of land that accompanied it. Suddenly finding it very important to know every detail about the home as possible, Harry stormed up to where Arthur was standing.

"Harry, m'boy! Thought you'd be off celebrating now that you've graduated," Arthur said genially.

"Arthur, why didn't you tell me about this?" Harry waved the scroll in the air.

His face paled. "Oh, right. The manor. I was going to give you the specifics tonight at the Burrow."

Harry nodded. "We'll talk later, then."

He walked away in search of Ginny, thinking maybe they'd head to the Three Broomsticks for a pint. As he rounded the corner by Hagrid's hut, he stumbled across a scene that bewildered him to no end. Luna Lovegood, the girl who talked nonstop about nargles and crumple-horned snorkacks, was snogging Blaise Zabini, infamous Slytherin playboy. Harry backed away slowly to avoid interrupting the couple, then turned tail and ran in the opposite direction toward the greenhouses.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ginny asked when he ran past.

He slowed down and let his girlfriend catch up. "I saw—Luna….and…Zabini…"

Ginny's eyes went wide. "You weren't supposed to know about that yet."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry," Ginny said softly. "Luna asked me not to tell anyone just yet, because they're not sure how serious things are."

"I suppose I can understand that," Harry acknowledged.

"They'll be so pleased to have your approval," Ginny snarked.

"Get over here," Harry growled playfully, pulling Ginny toward him.

The two were soon engaged in a very enjoyable snogging session of their own, completely oblivious to anything else going on around Hogwarts as the 1999 graduates celebrated.

That evening, after dinner at the Burrow had convened and most everyone had retired to bed, Arthur pulled Harry aside. Ginny refused to leave the circle of Harry's arms, so she was allowed to stay for the conversation.

"Did my parents ever live there?" Harry asked quietly.

Arthur nodded. "Your father was raised in that house. After he married Lily, they lived there until they were forced into hiding in 1980. It's been empty since then."

"Why didn't anyone ever tell him about it?" Ginny piped up.

"I assumed it had been destroyed during the first war. It's reasonable to think most other people did as well. It's also in a rather remote area, so I suppose it's easy to miss." Arthur scrubbed a hand through his excessively thinning hair.

Harry quickly did the math in his head. "It's been abandoned for nineteen years. Is it in any kind of condition to be lived in?"

At this, Arthur smiled widely. "Well, Kingsley and I asked around, and most people at the Ministry agreed that we owed a great debt to you for your part in ending the war. The Ministry paid to have Potter Manor restored. It's in mint condition again."

Harry's eyes went wide. "So I could live there?"

"You certainly could." Arthur stood up and stretched his arms above his head. "I'm going to turn in for the night. Got a long day tomorrow."

Harry turned to Ginny after her father was gone. "Would you want to live there instead of at Grimmauld Place?"

Ginny frowned. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because, silly witch," he said, leaning in and kissing her deeply, "I want you to marry me."

She pulled back and looked into Harry's emerald-colored eyes. "Yes," she whispered.

"Yes we should live there, or yes you'll marry me?" Harry teased.

Instead of answering, Ginny pushed him backward on the small sofa and began kissing him in earnest. Harry decided that meant yes to both questions.

"Gin, hold up," he said after several minutes. "I've got a question for you."

She sat up with a small pout on her lips. "I already said yes."

Harry chuckled. "Not about that. I got four owls today from some Quidditch teams in the British and Irish League. They've all offered me the position of Seeker."

"Which ones?" Ginny asked excitedly.

"Chudley Cannons," Harry scoffed, then continued more seriously, "Puddlemere United, Kenmare Kestrels, and…"

"And?" Ginny prompted.

"And Holyhead Harpies."

Ginny nodded slowly. "Have you made a decision?"

"Not yet. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you've been drafted to join the Harpies in any position you want. What position were you going to ask for?" Harry watched her reaction carefully.

"I was going to ask for Seeker," Ginny answered calmly. "Why?"

"Well, there's obviously two choices here. One, I join the Harpies and we kick ass playing on the same team together. Or two, I join one of the other teams and we play against each other."

Ginny smirked. "I think every relationship deserves a healthy dose of competition, don't you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Does it?"

"It means excellent make-up sex after one of us loses."

Harry laughed. "You know it'll always be you that loses, right?"

Ginny scoffed. "If that's how you'd like to play, fine. But you'll experience a very long dry spell, if you get my meaning."

"Are you using sex to threaten me into purposefully losing Quidditch games against you?"

"What do you think?"

"Puddlemere United it is, then."

"Good answer."

* * *

 _1 July 1999, London_

* * *

"Hermione— "

"—there are so many options for a career now. I'm thinking about some kind of research— "

"Hermione— "

"—maybe medical. I did learn a lot about healing when we were on the run, and the Wizarding world is woefully behind in medical technology. I mean, Muggles have more advanced methods of— "

"HERMIONE!"

"What?"

"Will you stop talking about future careers for a minute?" Ron pulled her to sit on a bench in the park where they were taking a walk.

Hermione sat down, giving him a perplexed look. "Why?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Some matters are more pressing than others, love."

"Like what?"

Ron slowly pulled her closer and melded their lips together. Hermione relaxed immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck and granting him access when he gently swiped his tongue against her bottom lip. She moaned when his hands encircled her waist and slid up her back. After a few moments, Ron pulled away, smirking at Hermione's whimper of disappointment.

"We both know I'm not very good with words," Ron said quietly. "I'm not going to pretend to be. It's just…I love you so much, Hermione. This last year with you has been…amazing."

"Ron— "

"Hush. I'm not finished." Ron grinned cheekily at her. "Look, I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Really?" she whispered.

"Really."

"Yes! Of course I will!" Hermione kissed him again. "I love you, too."

Ron smiled and pulled a ring out of his pocket. The shiny platinum band cradled a delicate white sapphire. Engraved on the band, entwined with ivy leaves, were the words _Deo, Non Fortuna_.

Hermione gasped. "But…this is the Potter family motto, Ron. I don't understand."

Ron shrugged uncomfortably. "Turns out being an Auror doesn't pay much. And Harry wanted to help out, so he offered to let me look through his vault. I thought you'd like this one."

"I love it, really. Did you know that sapphire is my birthstone?"

"Yeah. One of the goblins came into the vault with me and Harry, and he told me what the stone was. That was when I knew it was your ring." Ron flushed in embarrassment.

Hermione held out her left hand. "Well? Are you going to put it on me?"

"Oh! Right! Yeah." Ron grinned sheepishly and slid the ring onto her finger.

"Ron? Hermione?"

The newly engaged couple looked up, startled at the familiar voice.

"Tonks! Remus! How are you?" Hermione jumped up and hugged Tonks tightly.

Tonks shrugged. "Just taking little Teddy for a walk." She gestured to the pram in front of her husband.

"How's Teddy?" Ron asked, kneeling down in front of the young Metamorphmagus.

Teddy giggled and shifted his hair to match Ron's vivid red.

"Still not talking?" Hermione asked.

Remus sighed. "Well, to be fair, he's only fourteen months. Of course, I had hoped to be carrying on conversation with him, but there's nothing to be done."

Hermione laughed. "I'm sure he's well on his way. He's probably one of those kids that won't babble or anything, and one day he'll start speaking in complete sentences."

"That wouldn't surprise me," Tonks said cheerily. "Just further proof that he is his father's son."

Ron straightened up, looking at his former professor. "You didn't talk when you were little?"

Remus glared halfheartedly at his wife. "That's not completely true, but close enough."

Tonks eyed Hermione's left hand. "Is that what I think it is, Hermione?"

"What do you think it is?" Hermione retorted.

"I'm fairly certain it is, in fact, an engagement ring, Dora," Remus said, rolling his eyes. He turned to Ron and pretended to whisper as he continued. "The woman plays stupid, but she's really a genius. Did you know she's already gotten two of the old Anti-Werewolf Legislations overturned with the Wizengamot?"

Hermione smiled brightly. "That's wonderful! Which ones?"

Tonks smiled smugly. "Remus is now legally allowed to work anywhere he pleases and to seek medical care at St. Mungo's."

"Bloody excellent," Ron said.

"Remus," Tonks said in an almost chastising tone, "tell them where you'll be working now."

Remus rolled his eyes. "I'm back to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Fantastic!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Congratulations," Ron added.

Hermione frowned as a thought occurred to her. "But, Tonks, won't you miss having Remus around when he's at Hogwarts?"

"Nah." She waved a hand dismissively. "Didn't you know I've quit my job as an Auror? Teddy and I'll be going with Remus."

"That's one way to solve the problem," Hermione chuckled.

"Now, Ron, I'll expect you to keep me updated on Fred and George's new products. I have to know which students to reward for causing mayhem, after all." Remus smiled mischievously.

"Can do, mate," Ron laughed.

"Hey, speaking of Fred and George," Tonks said, "what are they up to lately? I haven't heard from them in a while."

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes has become so popular that they've been able to expand and open a branch in Hogsmeade."

"Fabulous," Remus muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, they've hired Seamus Finnigan to run the Hogsmeade branch for them." Ron laughed at the pained expression on Remus's face. "Come on, mate. It's not so bad."

"We'll see about that," Remus said scornfully. "Didn't Seamus have a propensity for blowing things up? That seems to me a dangerous mix with Weasleys' products."

Ron grinned. "That's why they hired him."

"Joy." Remus frowned.

"I heard that Neville is taking over for Professor Sprout this year," Hermione said, trying to lighten up the conversation.

Remus nodded. "That's right. Minerva asked him to be Head of Gryffindor House as well."

"Why not you?" Ron asked.

"Aside from the fact that I'm useless for one week every month?"

"Right."

"I really hope he finds someone," Hermione said softly. "He was really devastated after his breakup with Hannah."

Tonks suddenly looked very excited. "I saw him at the Leaky last weekend! He was there with one of the Patil girls!"

Ron laughed. "It won't have been Parvati, then. She always hated Neville."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "I could see him with Padma. I think they'd make a great couple."

Tonks smirked. "Not as great as the two of you, though."

"Oh hush, Tonks." Hermione blushed profusely.

"Listen, it was great running into you two, but we've got to get back home. It's almost Teddy's naptime." Remus smiled apologetically.

"Oh, we understand completely. It was great to see you!" Hermione hugged Tonks again.

"Hey, we'll see the two of you for Sunday dinner at the Burrow, right?" Remus asked.

"Definitely," Ron answered. "That's when we'll be breaking the news of our engagement to the rest of the family."

"Ron! You're going to wait to tell them?" Hermione smacked his arm.

"More time to ourselves, then," Ron snarked.

"Ron!"

* * *

 _29 July 2000, number twelve Grimmauld Place_

* * *

Hermione scrubbed vigorously at the grimy bricks of the fireplace in the kitchen. The place had been abandoned for nearly three years, and had accumulated quite the layer of filth in the absence of human presence. Ron walked into the room, whistling an off-key tune, and sat at the kitchen table.

"Still at it, love?"

Hermione scowled at her new husband. "Yes, Ronald, I am still at it. You could help me clean the house, you know."

"Where's the fun in that?" Ron shrugged. "You know I'm no good at cleaning anyway."

"Something's better than nothing," Hermione argued.

Ron groaned. "Come on, Hermione. We've just got back from our honeymoon. Do we have to jump into cleaning right away?"

"Of course not," Hermione said with a pseudo-sweet smile. "That is, unless you plan on asking for sex tonight."

"What?" Ron's eyes popped out of his head. "You can't do that!"

Hermione stood up and dropped the scrub brush she'd been using to scour the bricks. "You really think I won't withhold? Just try me, Ronald Weasley."

He smirked deviously. "I suppose I could find other ways to indulge, then."

"What are you talking about?"

"Something's better than nothing," he taunted.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly. If you didn't want the responsibility of making Grimmauld Place a suitable environment for people to live, why did you accept the damn gift from Harry in the first place?"

"It was either that or continue to live at the Burrow! Besides, Harry and Ginny have a house to live in; what would they need this place for?" Ron sulked in his chair.

"I'll make you a deal," Hermione said, folding her arms. "Help me finish cleaning the kitchen, and I'll reward you tonight."

"Do you mean— "

"Yes, I do."

"Deal."

Hermione knelt back down in front of the fireplace, shaking her head in annoyance. "Will you work on making that table look like a surface we'd actually want to eat food off of?" she asked, grimacing at the disgusting piece of oak furniture.

"Or we could start over," Ron suggested, also looking at it in distaste. "We could get rid of this bloody thing, and I could transfigure another nicer piece of furniture into something decent."

"All right."

Ron made quick work of shrinking the table and matching benches down to the size of his old Hogwarts trunk. Then he set them on fire, snickering gleefully at the smoking wood. Hermione simply rolled her eyes and let him live out his moment of pyromania without interruption. While it was true that her husband could be extremely immature, and quite often was, he still knew how to make her laugh. She loved the way she could loosen up around him in a way she couldn't with anyone else she knew.

When the table and benches had been sufficiently destroyed, Ron went in search of some other piece of furniture in the house that could make a good replacement. A few minutes later, he returned to the kitchen, levitating an antique ebony bookshelf. He gently set it down and took the shelves from their mounts.

"I thought we could use the shelves as new benches and the main part of the bookshelf as the table," Ron said nonchalantly.

Even though he was acting as if he didn't care about the ultimate decision, it was obvious that he hoped for approval. Hermione smiled. "It's brilliant, Ron. I couldn't have come up with a better idea myself."

Ron grinned triumphantly. "Thanks."

Hermione turned back to the fireplace, now intent on scrubbing out the inside, where decades worth of soot and ash had collected. "Did you happen to read the Daily Prophet this morning?"

"No, why?" Ron asked, already busy transfiguring the old bookshelf.

"Nothing too world-changing," Hermione said, trying to keep her cool. "But the society pages report that Harry supposedly is already cheating on Ginny. With Tracey Davis, no less."

Ron snorted in amusement. "That's absurd. Harry would never so much as look at a Slytherin."

Hermione frowned. "What does that mean?"

Ron shrugged. "Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin."

Hermione shook her head. "Honestly, Ron. When are you going to get over that petty prejudice? Just because someone's sorted into Slytherin doesn't automatically mean they're devil's spawn or something."

"I suppose," Ron admitted reluctantly. "How's Harry supposed to have met Davis, anyway?"

Hermione paused. They were venturing into potentially dangerous territory. "Aside from being in the same year at school, you mean?"

"Obviously."

"Er…well, they were both at the grand reopening of St. Mungo's Emergency Ward last month, and a mutual acquaintance introduced them."

"Who the devil does Harry know that would think he'd even be interested in Davis? Everyone knows he's already married to my sister," Ron said incredulously.

Hermione sighed. "It's not someone Harry knows, per se."

Ron turned and gaped at her. "You don't mean…"

"Yes."

"Malfoy? Harry was introduced to Tracey Davis by _Malfoy_?"

"I'm afraid so."

"What was he even doing talking to that wanker?" Ron complained.

"You know how things have been since the war," Hermione reasoned. "If the Savior of the Wizarding World can't put aside old schoolyard quarrels, how are the rest of us supposed to learn to get along?"

"But that means I have to socialize with bloody Malfoy," Ron said, frowning petulantly. "I'll have to play nice. You know I'm no good at that."

Hermione chuckled. "Well, it's not like the rumor is true anyway. Besides the next major event where any Slytherins will actually be in attendance is the Annual Victory Celebration in August. We've still got a month to improve your skills."

Ron grumbled under his breath.

"I'll make it worth your while," Hermione bribed.

With a final swish of his wand, the new table was complete, and Ron slumped onto one of the benches. "You'd better," he admonished. "If you don't, we're going to have some words about it."

"Right," Hermione said, smirking. "Words."

* * *

 _5 September 2000, Malfoy Manor_

* * *

"You proposed to Loony Lovegood?"

"Don't call her that!" Blaise snapped angrily. "She's not crazy!"

Draco held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. "Sorry. Old habits, you know?"

Blaise shook his head. "I really love her, Draco. She's got this absolutely shiny outlook on life, and it really rubs off. I like indulging her stranger philosophies because it makes me laugh. I never used to laugh."

"I know," Draco sighed. "Neither did I. I still don't."

"Do you think you'll be happy with Astoria?" Blaise asked, concern written on his face.

"I've no idea. I barely know the witch. If I had a choice, I wouldn't go through with it, I don't think. I'm really dreading next June."

"When's the big day?" Blaise asked with a rueful smile.

"June thirtieth." Draco frowned and slumped even further into his armchair in the drawing room. "At this point, I'm planning to get through the day by staying well-plied with Firewhisky."

Blaise scratched the top of his head. "Luna's going to be gone for a few months with her father on an expedition to find twitty-headed bambalots. We figured summer next year would be good for our wedding. What if we had them together? Would that make it less horrid for you?"

Draco stared at him, perplexed. "Twitty what?"

"Forget about the likely nonexistent creature, Draco. Did you hear what I asked you?"

He nodded serenely. "I think it's very generous of you to offer. I'd like nothing better than to run out on the damn wedding, but since I have to go through with it, having you around would make things a lot easier."

"Whoa. Don't go getting all Hufflepuff on me," Blaise said, leaning away from him with a look of disgust on his face.

Draco chuckled. "Go to hell, Zabini."

"That's more like it." After a short pause, Blaise added, "A Zabini-Malfoy double wedding. It'll be the event of the century."

"You make it sound like we're the ones getting married," Draco said, looking scandalized.

Blaise pouted. "I'm not good-looking enough for you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "If I said no, would you change the subject?"

"No."

"Then yes, you're far too ugly for my tastes." Draco smirked triumphantly.

Blaise moved to perch on the arm of Draco's chair. "But Draco," he purred, "we're so compatible. Why should looks make a difference?"

Draco shoved him to the floor. "Knock it off."

Blaise frowned at him from his perch on the floor. "Hey, that hurt."

"No it didn't," Draco mocked.

"Did so. It hurt my pride."

"What pride?"

"You know, I'm not actually sure friends are supposed to treat each other like this," Blaise said thoughtfully.

Draco smirked. "Like what?"

Blaise shrugged. "Like we hate each other or something."

"It's all in fun," Draco claimed. "We both know there's not malicious intent behind the insults, so it's fine."

"In that case, I'll proceed with my observation that you, Draco Malfoy, are an insufferable and spoiled git, and you wouldn't know a good thing if it hit you between the eyes."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just that you seem so intent on being miserable about being forced into a marriage with Astoria." Blaise became uncharacteristically serious for a moment.

Draco frowned. "What?"

Blaise sighed. "Does it have to be such a bad thing? Why call it a failure before it's even begun?"

"The whole point is that it's not my choice, Blaise!" Draco emphasized.

"I know. I understand that it feels like every decision has already been made for us. Unless we want to wind up on the streets without even our names, we do as we're told. I get it. But rather than feeling bitter about things we can't change, why not make the best of it?"

Draco watched his friend for a really long time before responding. "Then how is it that you get to be with someone you love? Weren't you supposed to marry Millicent at one point?"

Blaise let out a short, humorless laugh. "Fortunately for me, it was merely a verbal agreement. It went to the grave with my mother."

"Wait, what? Since when is your mother dead?" Draco gaped at his longtime friend.

"About a month ago she drank herself to death, which is rather difficult when one has magical blood. Quite the accomplishment, really."

Draco shook his head. "Don't you care? She was your mother! How is this not affecting you right now?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "Who says it's not? Maybe I just deal with death differently than you do."

"Still…I like to think I would feel at least the smallest bit sad if my father were to drop dead right now." Draco shrugged.

"As if. I'm fairly certain nobody will miss that man," Blaise chuckled.

"Touché. I suppose nobody will miss your mother, either. She had quite the reputation for being a hussy."

"Really?"

"Hadn't you noticed?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "I tried really hard not to."

"I think you failed to notice a lot of things in your pursuit to forget your mother's transgressions," Draco sneered impishly.

"Go to hell, Malfoy."

"Wasn't that always the plan?"

Blaise laughed loudly. "I suppose it was."

Draco shook his head and stood up to fix himself a glass of Firewhisky. Without asking, he prepared one for Blaise, and the two friends sat down to a game of Wizard's Chess. The alcohol always made it twice as fun.


	2. Making and Breaking

A/N: Hopefully this is not too confusing. For the most part it follows what JKR wrote as the epilogue to this point. From here, though, it's definitely different. WAY different. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter One: Making and Breaking

 _13 April 2006, Potter Manor_

* * *

"We are not naming our son Albus Severus!"

Hermione chuckled quietly, looking down at her four-month-old daughter in her arms. Ginny and Harry's two-year-old son James sat beside her on the window seat in the master bedroom. Ginny was lying in bed and clutching her newborn son to her chest defensively.

"Come on, Ginny! You know how much they meant to me," Harry nearly whined.

She shook her head incredulously. "I would like to remind you how much you hated Snape when we were in school, Harry. He didn't mean a damn thing to you."

"But that was before I knew— "

"He was still a total arse to you, though. His reason for defecting from the Death Eaters doesn't change the fact that he hated you, too."

"Ginny— "

"Er, mate, maybe you should let her have this one," Ron interrupted uneasily from where he sat in the corner of the room.

"But— "

"I'll make you a deal," Ginny said with a tone of finality. "Pick one of them to be his middle name. I'll pick the first name."

"Ginny, you named an owl Pigwidgeon. How am I supposed to trust you with a child's name?"

"Damn it, Harry! I was _thir_ _teen_! _Never_ trust a thirteen-year-old to name anything significant."

"But, Ginny, I really want to—"

"I swear to Godric, if you push this, I'll divorce you."

"But divorce isn't usually allowed in the Wizarding world, Gin," Ron interrupted.

Ginny glared at her older brother. "Then I'll kill him instead. Happy?"

Ron paled, and Hermione laughed at him. "Come on, Harry," she admonished her best friend. "Ginny did just go through forty-eight hours of labor. In St. Mungo's no less. It's not exactly a peaceful environment. I would know."

"It's more peaceful than the Burrow, at least," Ginny said sardonically. "I was ready to kill my own mum after twenty minutes of labor with James."

"See?" Hermione prodded. "She deserves to name this child. You did name the first one."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed peevishly. "We named him after two other people that meant a lot to you. I should get this one."

"Fine." Harry folded his arms, clearly pouting. "But I get to name the next child."

"Who says there's going to be a third?" Ginny nearly shrieked. At the baby's startled whimper, she lowered her voice again. "Besides, what would you name that baby? I won't allow Albus Severus if it's another boy. Godric forbid if it's a girl. Would you name her Lily?"

"I can't believe you just went there," Ron muttered under his breath.

"So Ginny," Hermione said before either of the Potters could begin a row, "do you have any ideas for a name?"

Ginny shrugged. "There are so many people we lost in the war that are deserving of remembrance. I can't decide."

Hermione moved to sit beside her on the bed, carefully adjusting her hold on her daughter. "You know you don't have to name him after someone we lost." She looked pointedly at Harry, hoping to drive the point home. "We honor their memories every day just by living. Choose a name that fits him, not something you feel obligated to use."

Ginny frowned down at her son. "But how do you know what name fits a baby? They haven't had the chance to develop a personality. How do you choose?"

Hermione reached down and ran her fingers through the new baby's soft black hair. "Personally, I think he looks a bit like an Aaron."

"Aaron…what do you think, Harry?"

"You know what I think," Harry pouted.

"Oh, get over it." Ginny smiled and rolled her eyes. "You know you'll love him just the same, no matter what his name is."

"I know," he sighed in resignation.

"What about Rhys?" Ginny suggested.

"That's a nice name," Ron offered.

"Baby Weese?" James piped up from the window seat, where he'd been uncharacteristically silent for the last few hours.

Harry chuckled and moved across the room to sweep his son into his arms. "That's right, Jamie."

"Rhys Potter," Hermione said, testing it out. "I like it."

"What about his middle name?" Ginny turned her attention back to her husband.

He smiled at her softly. "I like the name Rhys," he admitted, "but I don't think either Albus or Severus really goes with it."

"You make a good point. They both sound a bit ridiculous," Ginny said. After a long pause, she smiled brightly. "I know you want to honor both of your parents, so what if we make his middle name Evans?"

Harry grinned. "I'd like that."

"Rhys Evans Potter." Ron nodded. "A good, solid name."

Hermione turned to her older nephew. "Do you like it, Jamie?"

"Weese!" he said, nodding his tiny head vigorously.

"That settles it, then," Harry said, shrugging. "If Jamie likes it, it has to stay."

Ginny shook her head indulgently. "Rhys Evans it is."

Hermione stood up from her perch and carefully tried to stretch her sore back. "We should be going," she said, walking over to Ron's side. "Rose will be hungry soon, and I'm exhausted."

Ginny pretended to glare at her. "What are you so exhausted for? I'm the one who just endured two straight days of labor."

"Have you already forgotten what it's like to have a newborn at home? Rose only ever sleeps for three hours at a time."

Ron nodded, his eyes wide. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in a year."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Mate, you do not want to know what Hermione is like when she's pregnant. The witch knocked me onto the floor more times than I can count."

Hermione snickered. "Maybe I did it then because I had a good excuse."

"What are you saying?" Ron asked.

"Nothing that needs to start an argument, Ronald. Calm down. It was a joke." Hermione spoke to him as if he were a particularly dense child. Which he was, most of the time.

"Oh." Ron's face turned a bright shade of red.

Ginny smiled indulgently at him. "See you later. And thanks for coming."

Ron nodded and practically sprinted from the room.

Hermione shook her head. "Hopeless, that one."

"Remind me again why you married him?" Harry teased.

"Ask me again later."

Hermione left the room, accompanied by the sounds of Harry and Ginny laughing.

* * *

 _13 April 2006, Malfoy Cottage_

* * *

Draco scowled at Astoria. "You can't just leave!"

Astoria folded her arms stubbornly. "I can, and I am."

"What about Scorpius? He needs you."

"Yeah, well, turns out I'm not ready to be a mother." She stood up from her perch on the love seat and paced toward the bookshelves in the library.

Draco followed her. "So what? I'm not exactly prepared to be a dad, but you don't see me walking out on you!"

"Look, Draco. I never really wanted this life. Our parents arranged this marriage. My dad only ever expected me to be a baby making factory. I just can't do it anymore."

"I remember very well how this marriage happened, thank you," Draco snarled. "That's beside the point! At least I've tried to make it work!"

"Who says I haven't?" Astoria asked, placing her hands on her hips defiantly.

"Actually, you do by leaving now. I didn't want this marriage either, but that doesn't mean I'm going to abandon my son. You can find something you want to do with your life while remaining here. Give this a chance to succeed before you walk away." Draco hated that he was practically begging her to stay.

Astoria frowned. "I can't figure out what I want to do with my life if I'm strapped to the two of you. I need this."

"Do you even realize how selfish you sound right now?" Draco demanded furiously.

"And that's a problem how? You almost always sound selfish, and I've always put up with it," Astoria retorted.

"That's hardly fair," Draco argued. "I've been trying to be better since Scorpius was born."

"With very little improvement," she muttered.

"You know what? You're right: I am selfish. I won't bother to deny it," he snapped. "But I'm not walking out on an infant, either. I at least care enough about our son to stick around."

"I find it hard to believe that you care about anything," Astoria scoffed.

Draco felt the incredible urge to physically wipe the smirk from her face. "Same to you. What would be so difficult about finding a life while taking care of your kid?"

"What am I supposed to do? Cart him around with me everywhere I go?"

"No!" Draco was so mad he was sure he was steaming at the ears. "We'll hire a governess or something! You're not locked in the house just because you're a mother now!"

Astoria shook her head. "That's not what I want."

"I would ask what you do want, but it's obvious already what your answer will be."

The arguing couple was interrupted when their seven-month-old son began crying from his nursery. Draco turned his back on his wife and stomped across the hall to pick Scorpius up from his bassinet. When he turned around, he spotted Astoria hurrying down the hall toward the master bedroom. He followed her, trying to calm Scorpius by bouncing him up and down a bit. When he entered the room, Astoria was waving her wand at the dresser. Her belongings began flying out of it and into her trunk, which lay open at the foot of the bed.

"Astoria, you don't have to do this."

"We may have gone through the motions of getting to know each other before the wedding," Astoria sneered, "but don't pretend like you really know anything about me. You don't."

Draco sighed in frustration. "Will you even give me the chance? How are we supposed to raise a son together if you leave? Let me get to know you. We can still make this work."

"You can't talk me out of this, so stop trying to!"

Draco would have actually slapped her across the face this time if he hadn't been holding his still-wailing son. "Do you even care about Scorpius at all?" he demanded.

Astoria rolled her eyes. "What kind of question is that?"

"A damn good one!"

"Of course I care about him. I'm just not fit to be his mother."

"What about your parents? What will they think if you just walk out on our marriage like this? It's not like divorce is exactly allowed, you know. What am I supposed to do?"

Astoria stomped her foot in a bout of childishness. "Maybe I don't care what they think!"

"You'll be cut off just as much as I would if I were to leave you," Draco stated impatiently. "Then what will you do?"

"I don't care as much about their money as you assume I do," Astoria snapped.

"That still doesn't change the fact that Scorpius needs a mother," Draco pointed out, raising his voice over Scorpius's increased volume.

"Can't you make him shut up?" Astoria exploded, throwing her hands up over her ears. "I'm so sick of hearing him crying all day!"

"Don't you think I would if I knew how?" Draco yelled just as loudly, turning his back to her.

"Some father you are," Astoria scoffed.

"Some mother you are!" Draco spat.

"I never claimed to be any good at this Draco."

"Neither did I!"

The sound of Astoria's trunk slamming shut reverberated throughout the room. "I can't do this anymore," Astoria muttered.

"Fine. Go." Draco spun around to face her again, fury distorting his features. "But when you change your mind—and you _will_ change your mind—you won't be welcomed back. If you leave today, you'll never see Scorpius again."

Astoria hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Fine."

Draco could only watch, still holding his bawling son, as his wife of five years walked out of the house and out of his life. In the process of a few minutes, he had gone from a married man to a single father. He had no idea how to do this. He wanted to scream and throw things and punch holes in the walls. But Scorpius still needed his attention, so he resisted the urge.

He stomped out of the master bedroom of his oversized house and down the stairs. He wished that his mother had allowed him to take a house elf when he moved out of the Manor. He had absolutely no idea what to feed an infant. As a matter of fact, Draco didn't know how to change a diaper. It would be a miracle if Scorpius survived the night. When he entered the kitchen, he immediately stormed over to the fridge and yanked open the door. It was nearly empty. The only thing edible was a head of lettuce, and Draco was smart enough to know a baby couldn't eat that.

He needed help. Scorpius's cries had gone from sounding urgent and sad to angry and desperate. Draco knew his mother would be no help. He had practically been raised by a governess himself. As a matter of fact, every single person he knew came from very similar situations. Who was he supposed to go to now? Draco paced through the large kitchen, clutching his son tightly. He thought of a few people he might be able to ask, but he would rather come face to face with Voldemort again than debase himself by requesting their help.

Scorpius's voice began to fade as his vocal cords became too tired to continue his crying. At last desperate enough, Draco Disapparated and reappeared in the lobby of St. Mungo's, the baby's wailing echoing off of the marble walls. Almost immediately, a swarm of female healers surrounded him, cooing and fussing over Scorpius.

"What's the matter with him?" one witch asked.

Draco flushed with embarrassment. "I, er, I think he's hungry. My…his mother left him."

"Oh, the poor dear. Where did you find him?"

"He's mine." Draco scowled at her.

"I'm sorry, I just thought— " The witch appeared flustered.

"Can you just help him? I don't know how. His mother always took care of him, and now…"

"Of course. If you come with me, we can get him all set up in an exam room." She waved her arms at the other witches surrounding them, shooing them away.

"But he doesn't need an exam," Draco said as he followed the healer down a hallway.

She tossed a smile over her shoulder at him. "No, I know. You'll just have more privacy there."

"Oh." He stayed silent until they reached the small room.

The healer quickly shut the door, cutting off the noise of the hospital's atrium. She waved her wand, and something zoomed out of the cabinet and into her hand. It was a container of some kind, slightly reminiscent of a goblet. The healer moved across the exam room to a small sink and filled the container halfway with warm water. She Summoned a can from the other side of the room.

Draco had no idea what the witch was doing, and he was having a hard time focusing over his son's continued cries. The witch took a small plastic spoon-like thing from the can and measured two scoops into the container of water. Finished with that task, she walked back over to the cabinet and pulled out a tan-colored cap of some kind. She screwed it on the top of the container, then shook it up until the water inside became a white-ish liquid.

"This," she said as she handed it to him, "is called a bottle. It's a Muggle invention. You fill it with baby formula—another Muggle invention—and feed it to the baby."

"Er…" Draco stared at the bottle.

"You put this end in the baby's mouth," she instructed, pointing at the rubbery tip.

Now that he examined it a bit closer, he realized it looked somewhat like Astoria's—never mind. Draco carefully tilted the bottle and stuck the tip into Scorpius's mouth. Instantly, he began suckling greedily; it was oddly silent without his screaming. Draco sighed. So this was his life now. He looked back up at the healer, waiting for her to begin his training in parenting.


	3. The First Attack

A/N: There is some lovely foreshadowing that happened on accident in this chapter. I seriously didn't think about how it would play into the future of this fic until after I'd written it. I can't think of much else that needs saying, so onward!

* * *

Chapter Two: The First Attack

 _30 June 2006, number twelve Grimmauld Place_

* * *

Hermione frowned at Ron as she struggled to fit a hand-knitted jumper over Rose's head. "Are you sure Fred and George can watch Rose while we're at work today? Won't they have to close their store?"

Ron smirked. "They're successful enough to actually have employees." He gave her a shocked look. "I know, I never thought it would happen, either."

Hermione laughed, pulling Rose's arms through the sleeves of the jumper. "Oh, hush. You did so."

"Honestly, they really were excited when I asked them. They love Rosie." Ron walked over and rumpled Rose's tiny red curls. "How could they not?"

"You make an excellent point," she replied, looking fondly down at their blue-eyed daughter.

"Don't worry, though. I still love you more."

Ron pulled Hermione up against him and kissed her softly. She rose up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck for a better vantage point. It was amazing how, even after eight years together, his touch still managed to set her pulse racing. Rose made a small hiccupping sound, effectively pulling her parents apart.

"We really should listen to her," Hermione said. "We'll be late to work if we don't."

"Bloody slave driver, that one," Ron replied with a chuckle.

The sound of the twins banging into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place greeted them.

"Oi! Ronniekins!"

Ron scowled. "I wish they'd stop calling me that."

"So long as it elicits a reaction from you, they'll keep using it," Hermione said.

"Yeah, yeah."

Hermione picked Rose up from her changing table and walked down the several flights of stairs to the kitchen. "Hey, Fred. George."

"Hermione!" they crowed together. "Where's our favorite niece?"

Hermione looked around the room in confusion. "You know, I haven't seen her for a few days now. Hmm."

Fred laughed loudly. "Well done, 'Mione. Well done."

Hermione handed Rose over to George. "We really appreciate you watching her today."

"Of course!" said George. "Mum was obviously disappointed, but Bill and Fleur really needed her. Victoire and Dominique have been quite the little drama queens lately, and what with Fleur being pregnant and extremely sick, she's in desperate need of a break."

"I can't believe Victoire is already seven!" Hermione said.

"I know. And Dominique turns five next week! I wish we saw them more often, though. Damn Bill and his Gringotts work." Fred pretended to pout.

"Fred!" George admonished teasingly. "Little ears!"

Fred rolled his eyes, holding up his hand and using it to mimic George talking.

"Now, now, boys," Ron said as he walked into the room, holding a briefcase in one hand. "No arguing in front of Rosie. She'll tell us if you're bad today, so behave yourselves."

"Yes, Dad," the twins said in unison.

Hermione chuckled. "What are you planning for the day?"

Fred shrugged. "We thought about going to see Ginny and the boys."

"Gin would probably love the company," Ron said.

"She's not still laid up in bed, is she?" George asked.

"Oh, heavens no." Hermione waved a hand. "Rhys was born two months ago, and new mothers only really need a few days' rest usually."

"Well, how would I know that?" George said grumpily. "Angelina still won't marry me, let alone consider having kids."

"Then it's a good thing you have nieces and nephews to keep you company," Ron replied.

George frowned. "I just don't get it."

"It could have something to do with the fact that I still live in the flat," Fred suggested.

"Yeah, she probably feels like she's got her hands full with twin boys," Ron quipped.

"Ah, shut up, Ronniekins." George punched him in the arm.

"Ow." Ron looked at him petulantly.

"Well, I'm off," Hermione interrupted. "I'll be at St. Mungo's if you need me."

"Bye, love." Ron gave her a kiss goodbye. Fred and George groaned in disgust. "See you tonight."

As Hermione tossed a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace, Ron flipped his brothers off behind his back. Hermione stepped into the green flames and gave everybody one last smile before stating her destination and being whisked off to work.

The hospital was in chaos when she arrived. Healers were sprinting around the atrium, trying to help the dozens of wounded people streaming through the doors. Hermione quickly became overwhelmed by the sounds of panic; sterile white and blood red seemed to be the only things filling her vision. Horrid flashbacks from the war assaulted her, and the room began spinning around her. She shook her head vigorously to break the stupor, then raced to her office to deposit her belongings. Normally, she worked in the lab developing new healing potions and vaccines, but today was clearly a day for her to act as healer.

Hermione hurried back to the main level and pulled aside one healer. "What happened?"

The healer looked around, fear in her eyes. "I don't know. There was an explosion or something at the Ministry, and this— " She waved around the atrium helplessly before rushing off again.

Hermione felt a brief moment of panic. The Ministry was attacked. Much of her family worked there: Ron, Arthur, Percy, Angelina. If she recalled correctly, Harry was supposed to be there for an important meeting today, as well. They were all in danger, and she was terrified for them. She fought back her urge to Disapparate to the Ministry to find them, and hurried to grab a white smock that would identify her as a healer. Tying it around her waist, Hermione hid her own anxiety behind a mask and moved to the first person she could see that needed help. It was going to be a long day.

Hermione spent the better part of twelve hours moving patients from the atrium to surgeries, burn units, and hospital rooms. She briefly sent a Patronus message to Ron to let him know she would be home late. He responded with a very similar message, stating that the Auror Department had a lot of clean up and investigating to do. He'd also contacted Fred and George to see if they could keep Rose overnight. George sent a message not too long after to let Hermione know that Angelina had been sent home early (she worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports), and was delighted to spend the evening spoiling her "niece."

Despite the relief this news brought her, Hermione still felt numb. Each injury she'd treated had seemed more gruesome than the one before it. Her smock was soon smeared with blood, and she was fairly certain she'd gotten blood on her favorite dress, too. It didn't matter. At least victims from the earlier accident (attack?) had stopped flowing into the hospital. Things didn't slow down for quite some time after, though.

Once each patient had been settled, Hermione then began making rounds, doing everything she could to help heal those more gravely injured. She was exhausted, she was filthy, and she missed her family. It was nearly ten o'clock at night when Hermione found a brief respite. She had just finished patching up one of the lesser-injured victims, and sat in a chair with a huff.

"Thank you, dear. I really do appreciate your help," the sweet elderly woman said.

"It's no trouble," Hermione replied. "I've just been going all day long."

The woman nodded. "I'm sure you have."

Hermione fixed her with a curious stare. "Do you know what happened?"

"Well," the woman sighed, "I had just arrived at the Ministry when the explosion went off down in the corridor by the Department of Mysteries. The damage in the atrium was minimal."

"An explosion in the Department of Mysteries," Hermione muttered. "Was it just an accident?"

"I have no clue. I didn't see anyone leaving the Ministry after it happened that looked like a guilty party, but God knows I'm not all-knowing." She chuckled at her little joke.

Hermione smiled. "Well, thank you for talking with me. Feel better soon, you hear?"

"Thank you."

Hermione left the little exam room and slowly made her way back to the hospital's atrium. Everything seemed still and quiet. It felt strange after the chaos the day had provided. She turned toward her boss's office, largely to determine if she could go home, when she ran face-first into none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Hey, watch where you're—Granger!"

"Malfoy?" She looked up at him, startled.

"You work here?" Draco asked interestedly.

Hermione nodded. "Usually down in the labs, but y'know." She waved a hand to indicate the still-messy atrium.

"Right."

"You're not hurt, are you?" Hermione asked.

It was Draco's turn to look startled. "No! I'm fine."

"That's good, but why are you here, then?"

"Oh, er…" Draco rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "No reason."

Hermione certainly didn't believe him, but she let it go. "Well, I've got to be going."

"Right." Draco stared at her for a second before she walked away.

Hermione shook her head, thinking the encounter strange. He had seemed so nervous, but she couldn't think of any reason he may have to feel that way. Surely Draco wasn't tangled up in anything related to today's attack. No, of course not. Not after the war. Hermione knocked softly on her boss's door and poked her head inside the office.

"Noreen, have you got everything handled?" she asked softly.

Her boss only nodded, completely engrossed in paperwork.

Hermione removed her not-so-white smock and dropped it in a laundry bin on her way to floo home. Once there, she shuffled her way from the kitchen to the sitting room, and slumped onto the couch, completely spent. She even found herself too tired to read while she waited for Ron to return home, which was a rather unusual occurrence. She leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes, briefly considering a bath. It sounded nice, but she was so exhausted…

She was startled awake some time later when Ron appeared in the doorway. Hermione jumped to her feet, her wand extended reflexively, until she realized who stood before her. She sighed in relief and moved to Ron's arms. He dropped his briefcase and held her close, resting his forehead atop her curly hair.

"What happened?" Hermione whispered.

"Not sure," Ron mumbled. "Explosion, yeah. But we don't know why. Couldn't find anything malfunctioning in the building to indicate an accident, which means it might've been on purpose." He sighed heavily. "Were there any casualties?"

Hermione fought the tears that filled her eyes and nodded against his chest. "Twelve."

Ron's posture dipped further. "Damn. D'you know who?"

"I didn't treat them myself. And I couldn't bear to find out after. It was too much like the war, and I just— " Her voice broke off in a sob.

"Hey, none of that, now," Ron said softly, tilting her chin up so she would look him in the eyes. "Everything will be all right."

Hermione gave him a shaky smile. "Okay. Your dad and Percy, they're all right? And Harry?"

Ron nodded. "Come on now, love. Let's get to bed."

She let Ron take her hand and lead her back to their bedroom. Once there, she stripped off her filthy dress and put on her softest cotton nightgown before climbing into the big bed that she shared with her husband. Ron got in next to her and drew Hermione back into his embrace. And it was there, after a long and painful day of loss and injury, that Hermione fell asleep, finally content again.

* * *

 _30 June 2006, Malfoy Manor_

* * *

Draco Apparated back to Malfoy Manor. In the months since Astoria had left him, he'd moved back with his parents. Of course, he hadn't told them she was gone. Instead, Draco had told them that Astoria decided to go on a vacation with some of her friends. But as the weeks turned into months, he knew he couldn't keep up the pretense much longer. Still, he didn't plan on confronting the issue tonight.

"Draco, there you are. Scorpius has been crying, and I think he wants you," Narcissa said when he entered the drawing room.

He nodded wearily. "Is he in the nursery?"

"Yes, dear. When you've got him, come back. Your father and I need to speak with you."

Draco grimaced inwardly. He hated when she said those words; they never meant good news. "I'll be right back."

He took the stairs two at a time and went down the right hall toward the nursery. When he opened the door, one of the house elves was holding Scorpius, trying to calm him down. Draco sighed somewhat sadly. Things just weren't how he'd thought they would be.

"Thank you, Nylo, you may go," Draco said as he took Scorpius from the elf.

"Yes, Master Draco." Nylo bowed low and left the room.

Draco lifted his son to his shoulder, and Scorpius nestled his tiny blonde head against his neck. It had taken some time, but he finally felt like he was bonding with his son. Scorpius almost always stopped crying when Draco held him now. With another sigh, he left the nursery and made his way downstairs to the drawing room again.

"Is everything all right?" he tried to ask nonchalantly.

"I don't know, is it?" Lucius asked his son.

Draco leaned against the door frame. "What are you talking about?"

"Draco, where's Astoria?" Narcissa cut to the chase.

"I've told you; she's on a trip." He furrowed his brow, trying to be more convincing.

"You say she went with her sister?" Narcissa pushed.

"Yes, and a few others. Why?"

Lucius glared at Draco. "Your mother saw Daphne in Diagon Alley today."

Draco tried not to panic. "Then she must've come back early. I'm sure Astoria has owled, I just have to check back home."

Narcissa shook her head sadly. "Stop lying."

"I don't know what you want me to— " Draco started.

"The bloody truth, Draco!" Lucius yelled. "We know she's not on a trip. Just tell us the damn truth!"

Draco slowly moved into the drawing room and slumped into an armchair, mindful of his son. "Astoria left."

"What?" Narcissa asked.

"She's gone, Mother. She left me and Scorpius so she could _go find her life_ , or whatever." He made sure the verbal quotation marks were obvious to his parents.

Lucius sneered at his son. "And you just let her go?"

"It's not like I could've stopped her!" Draco said defensively.

"A Malfoy never lets his wife just leave like that!" Lucius insisted. "You're a disgrace."

"Lucius, is that really necessary?" Narcissa said softly.

"Yes!" he snapped at her. "Have you even tried to get her to come back?" he aimed at Draco.

"I've owled her several times, but she just sends the letters back unopened. I've no idea where she went." Draco glared at his father defiantly. "Quite frankly, I don't care. If she doesn't want to be a part of my life, I don't want to be a part of hers, either."

"What kind of attitude is that to take about this situation?" Lucius demanded.

"Honestly, Father, I've more important things to worry about right now than figuring out where Astoria went. I've got a son I've been taking care of, in case you forgot."

Lucius sneered at him. "That never stopped me."

Draco's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

"Lucius, please," Narcissa whispered.

"Shut up!" Lucius snarled. "Why you had the gall to try and leave me twenty-five years ago is beyond my understanding."

Draco slowly turned his gaze to his mother. "What did you do?"

Narcissa sighed. "Your father and I had been arguing. After he left the room, I had a panic attack, and I left the Manor. I wasn't intending on staying away permanently, though, despite what your father is implying."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What good would it have done any of us to inform you of your mother's mistake?" Lucius asked brusquely. "She's here now, isn't she? I expect you to do the same with Astoria. If you must leave Scorpius here with us for a day or two, then do so. But you will go find your wife."

"No." Draco sat up straight and looked Lucius in the eye. "I won't do it, because I've never felt anything more than tolerance for Astoria. I only married her out of a sense of duty to my family. Quite frankly, I'm glad she's gone."

"You insolent little— "

"Lucius!" Narcissa snapped. "You've made your point. Move on."

Lucius rolled his eyes at her, but returned his gaze to Draco. "Get out."

"What?" Draco yelped, getting to his feet.

"I said get out." Lucius moved as if to strike his son, and Draco flinched away accordingly. "As of right now, you're cut off. No longer a Malfoy. Now get out of my house!"

Draco stared at his father. "You don't mean it! It's not my fault!"

"Really, Lucius— "

Lucius held up a hand to his wife to silence her. "No son of mine fails at being a proper husband. Not only have you done that, but you have now condemned your own son to living life as a bastard child. It's absolutely pathetic. If you do not leave this instant, I will force you to."

Narcissa choked on a sob in the corner of the room.

"I—Mother." Draco gave Narcissa one last look, trying to convey without words how much she meant to him. Then he turned around and left the Manor behind, the only home he thought he had left.

Everything was all wrong. More than anything, Draco was pissed that so much had fallen apart in just a couple of months. How could his father just disown him like that? Like none of his efforts over the last eight years meant anything. He'd allowed his parents to stick him in an arranged marriage; he'd tried to make it work; he'd even produced an heir. And yet none of it was ever enough. Had Draco not been holding a nine-month-old baby, he would have punched something.

For the first time in his life, Draco found himself completely broke. He hadn't a knut to his name. As much as it terrified him, he was going to have to find a job. He, Draco Lucius Malfoy, had to find employment in order to keep himself—and his son—alive. For the moment, he still had Malfoy Cottage to stay in, but his parents had purchased it. If he knew anything about his father—and he _really_ did—then he knew he'd be banned from the property soon. So now he was a single father, and he was soon to be homeless. With winter approaching, Draco felt like there was no chance that he or his son would live for much longer. The thought was horridly depressing.


	4. All Work and Then Play

A/N: Because I am awesome, I think it would be spectacular to have my huge plot point happen on the date it is scheduled to happen in the story. That's confusing. Okay. Chapter 6 will take place on August 31. I will post it on...you guessed it: August 31! That means several updates over the next ten days. And a lot of catch-up writing for me. I will post chapter 4 on Thursday (August 25) and chapter 5 on Sunday (August 28). After chapter 6, I will go back to my regular schedule of posting on Mondays.

* * *

Chapter Three: All Work and Then Play

 _1 July 2006, Diagon Alley_

* * *

The next morning found Draco walking through Diagon Alley—pushing Scorpius in a pram—and looking for work. Most of the shop owners were still prejudiced against Death Eaters, and despite the fact that Draco had defected, nobody wanted to hire someone who was "evil." Not even Florean Fortescue's would take him. He knew; he'd asked.

It wasn't like he was useless! He'd been second in his year and had earned ten NEWTs by graduation. It didn't matter, though. His name and reputation may as well have wiped out any academic skill permanently. Nobody wanted sullied goods. As much as he wanted to raise and care for Scorpius, the way things were looking, maybe it would just be better to give him up.

With a sigh of resignation, Draco Apparated to the Ministry of Magic and made his way to the Wizarding Records and Information Office. He was only halfway across the atrium when he was intercepted by Neville Longbottom.

"What're you doing here, Malfoy?" Neville asked kindly.

"I would say I'm looking for work, but nobody wants to hire a Death Eater."

Neville frowned. "So then why are you here?"

"Suffering from a temporary moment of weakness, I suppose." He gestured to the pram. "This is my son, Scorpius."

"He looks just like you."

"Thanks, I guess," Draco said warily.

"Is everything going all right with you, Malfoy?" Neville asked, a concerned look on his face. "You seem a bit out of sorts."

Draco shook his head a little. "Not really, no. Astoria took off, so I've been taking care of Scorp alone. To top that delightful surprise off, my father disowned me last night for failing to stalk my wife and force her to come back."

"That's awful. It seems a bit harsh to disown you because _she_ chose to leave." Neville frowned thoughtfully, and his eyes widened when realization hit him. "You were going to put your son up for adoption just now, weren't you?"

"So what if I was?" Draco asked petulantly. "It's none of your business."

"You know, it's actually a really good thing I ran into you here," Neville said determinedly. "Professor McGonagall has been looking for a new Potions Master since Slughorn retired again. All of the applicants so far have been complete rubbish. I'm here picking up more applications, but none of them seem promising." He waved a stack of parchment in the air.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," Neville said lightly. "I was getting to that part. What if, instead of bringing McGonagall this stack of idiots, I just bring you?"

"Really?" Draco asked sardonically. "You think McGonagall would hire _me_?"

"Well, yeah. You were best in our year at Potions. Better even than Hermione, but don't tell her I said so." Neville glanced around as if he were worried someone was listening in on their conversation. "She'd hex me."

"Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I don't think McGonagall will go for it. Besides, I don't have anyone to watch Scorpius."

"Just bring him along. It'll endear you to McGonagall more." He leaned in conspiratorially. "She's a sucker for babies."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to try," Draco said with a shrug. "Lead the way."

The two former classmates—who were oddly getting along for some reason—Apparated to the edge of Hogwarts grounds. They made the walk to the castle in silence, but it wasn't strained or awkward because of the lack of sound. It was awkward because Draco knew he'd tortured Neville when they were in school, yet Neville was acting as if they were friends or something. It was flabbergasting, to say the least.

Draco cleared his throat as they made their way past the Whomping Willow, he still pushing Scorpius in the pram before him. "Listen, Longbottom. I really…er—I really appreciate you doing this." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "And I wanted to…apologize. For being such a prick in school."

Neville grinned. "Don't worry about it, Malfoy. We were kids back then. A lot has changed in eight years. But if it makes you feel better, I accept your apology and offer my own in return."

"For what?" Draco asked incredulously.

"For being such a clumsy oaf, of course." Neville laughed. "My bumbling around and screwing things up was just begging to be noticed. You almost didn't have any choice but to taunt me; I was just too tempting."

Draco snorted. "Maybe one day I'll believe that."

"Oh, come on. Nobody ever became successful in life by holding onto old grudges. Nobody ever found happiness by doing that, either."

"True enough."

They had finally reached the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the headmistress's office. Neville stepped forward. "Athena." The gargoyle jumped aside and Neville hurried to ascend the moving spiral staircase. Draco quickly followed on his heels after plucking Scorpius from the pram.

At his knock on the door, McGonagall granted them entrance to her office. To say she looked surprised to see Draco would have been a massive understatement. Anyone with less poise would have been staring openmouthed at him.

"Neville?" She covertly addressed the hippogriff in the room.

"It turns out that Malfoy here is in need of a job. Coincidentally, you happen to be in need of a new Potions Master." Neville smirked triumphantly.

McGonagall turned her attention to Draco. "It's good to see you, Mr. Malfoy," she said cordially.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is it?"

McGonagall smiled softly. "Yes," she sighed. "I'm a bit surprised to see you in my office, but I think you'll find I'm not as judgmental of you as others in the Wizarding world might be."

"I hope you mean that."

"So this is your son I've heard so much about?" she asked, turning her smile toward Scorpius, who was asleep against Draco's chest. "He looks just like you did when you were a baby."

Draco frowned at her. "You knew me when I was a baby? And who in Salazar's name has been telling you about Scorp?"

"It may be hard to believe, but your mother and I were rather close when she was a student here. We've kept in touch over the years, even though the friendship has been strained in times of war." McGonagall spread her hands in a gesture that said, _well, what do you do_?

"Mother never mentioned you were anything but a professor to her."

She nodded and glanced at Neville, who still hovered by the door. "Neville, would you be so kind as to give us a moment?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry Minerva. I'll be in my office if you need me."

Neville hurried from the room before Draco could voice his minor protest at being left alone with McGonagall. He shuddered when he realized he had been relying on _Longbottom's_ company for reassurance. That would definitely not happen again.

"You know, Draco, your mother sent me an owl late last night. She said something about your father disowning you." McGonagall smiled sympathetically.

Draco sat in a chair opposite her desk. "Yes, well, there's not much to be done about it, is there?"

"Lucius may not want anything to do with you now, Draco, but Narcissa still very much wants to be a part of your life. As a matter of fact, I was in the process of drafting an urgent owl to send you just before the start of term about how I couldn't find a decent replacement for Slughorn. It was to be full of pleading for you to accept the position."

Draco smirked. "It was Mother's idea, then?"

McGonagall shrugged. "She mentioned it when we spoke last night, but you'd been on my mind all summer."

"Really?" Draco was torn between the simultaneous feelings of something inside his chest ceasing its function and another one beginning. It was very disconcerting and left him feeling somewhat hollow.

"I do tend to ramble on sometimes," interrupted a cool voice from Draco's left. "There's ever so little to do now that I'm a mere portrait."

Draco turned and smiled at the large portrait of his deceased godfather. "Severus. I can't tell you how good it is to see you, even if it is in oil paint."

"Yes," Snape sighed, a slight sneer on his face. "The artist thought it rather hilarious to use oil paint when so many of my…adversaries…referred to me as a 'greasy git.'"

Draco struggled to reign in his mirth while McGonagall didn't hesitate to laugh joyously. He tilted his chin toward Scorpius. "I'd have asked you to be godfather, you know."

Snape smiled serenely. "For the life of me I cannot fathom why. I was not particularly good at being _your_ godfather. What made you think I'd do better a second time?"

"Everyone deserves a second chance, don't they?"

"Indeed." Snape paused, seemingly considering his next words. "Who _is_ the boy's godfather, if I may ask?"

Draco shrugged. "Nobody. Crabbe's dead, Goyle's in prison, and I've fallen out of touch with Blaise and Theo as of late. At any rate, there wasn't really anyone else that I felt was close enough to me or my family to merit asking such a favor."

"That is understandable," Snape conceded. "What is his full name?"

"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy," Draco said, unable to hide his proud smile.

Snape nodded slowly. "Do you anticipate your son being venomous?"

"Not personally," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Astoria picked his first name. I'm fairly certain she didn't know what it meant. I chose Hyperion." Draco scowled at the mention of his (ex?) wife.

"The God of Light. Very Malfoy of you." Snape smirked.

"That was the point, after all," Draco agreed.

"So, back to the matter at hand." McGonagall interrupted the reunion. "Will you accept the position of Potions Master, Draco?"

"Yes. There's just one thing, though." He gestured to his son.

McGonagall smiled. "That's not going to be much of a problem, really, if you'll allow your cousin to watch him when you're teaching."

"My cousin?" Draco asked, confused.

"Nymphadora. Andromeda's daughter."

"How will she be able to tend Scorp? Won't he be here with me?"

"I suppose you haven't heard," McGonagall mused. "Remus Lupin is married to Nymphadora, and he's back to being the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He didn't want to leave his wife and son behind, so they accompanied him. I simply accommodated them with larger living quarters. Since Nymphadora retired from her job as an Auror, she takes care of her son Teddy when Remus is teaching. I've already discussed it with her, and she'd be delighted to get to know both you and Scorpius. She's very family-oriented."

Draco stared at the headmistress in shock. "I—I mean, yeah. Of course, I want to actually meet her first, but I'm sure she's capable."

McGonagall smirked. "She is, most of the time."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "And the rest of the time?"

"Believe it or not, your mother stops by to help every once in a while when Andromeda is otherwise occupied. Narcissa is also very family-oriented."

Draco shook his head in awe. "It's like I never really knew her at all."

"Well, you've plenty of time to get to know her now."

* * *

 _28 July 2006, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

* * *

Hermione swirled the small beaker full of stewed newt eyes, contemplating her latest experiment. The light green liquid looked almost iridescent in the light of her private laboratory. Ever the careful potion brewer, she picked up the dropper of liquefied unicorn horn and added three drops to the newt eyes. With a puff of steam, the liquid in the beaker turned a bright orange. Hermione frowned unhappily at the results. The modified Calming Draught was meant to be a deep purple, but no matter how she combined separate bases, she couldn't get the liquefied unicorn horn to act as she needed it to.

She set down the beaker and vanished its contents with a wave of her wand. She'd start over again on Monday. Right now, all she wanted to do was go home and enjoy time with her family. All of the Weasleys were congregating at Grimmauld Place to celebrate Harry's birthday. Considering almost every single one of them had to work on Monday, it seemed most prudent to hold the party tonight.

But as Hermione was locking up her office, she once again bumped into a former adversary. Draco Malfoy nearly knocked her to the ground as she spun away from her office door, intent on hurrying toward the nearest floo. His arms shot out to steady her before she toppled over. For a few moments, Hermione stayed locked in Draco's embrace, staring at him. Then she straightened up and cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Sorry," Draco murmured.

Hermione shook her head. "It's okay. I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Er…how are you?"

"I'm sorry?" Hermione looked at him in bewilderment.

Draco scowled. "Never mind."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Sorry. Old habits."

He nodded briskly. "Well, I'll be going, then."

Hermione watched Draco stride away from her before it occurred to her that he'd been hanging around the hospital an awful lot lately. On impulse, she ran to catch up to him and stopped him with a hand on his elbow. Draco spun around to face her again.

"Something the matter, Granger?" he drawled.

"I was going to ask you the same question."

He raised an eyebrow imperiously. "Oh?"

Hermione shrugged. "I've just seen you around a lot over the last several months. Is everything all right?"

Draco looked acutely uncomfortable. "Oh! Er…it's rather a long story…"

"You may not know this about me, but I'm a good listener. Want to grab a cup of tea?" Hermione smiled timidly.

"I suppose," he replied after a long moment spent contemplating.

They slowly began walking toward the cafeteria on the ground level of the hospital. Draco kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye until she finally lost her patience. Instead of snapping at him, as was her old habit, she took a deep breath and continued walking.

"Something you wanted to ask, Malfoy?" she asked with a careful air of nonchalance.

He remained quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was guarded, suspicious. "May I ask why you are so curious about what I've been doing here?"

"Trying to mend broken bridges?"

Draco snorted. "What bridges, Granger? I'm fairly certain there were never any bridges between us to start with."

Hermione chuckled at that. "Touchè. I guess I'm curious because if someone in your family is ill, I might be able to help."

They had arrived at the cafeteria, and Draco courteously held the door open for her. "Nobody in my family is ill, but thank you for your concern."

"I should have ruled that out to start with," she said ruefully. "Obviously the Malfoys would hire only the best concierge healers the Wizarding world can buy."

As the two acquaintances stood at the counter preparing their individual cups of tea, Hermione noticed Draco's prominent scowl. Perhaps old money was a topic that was not meant to be brought up in public. But that wouldn't make any sense, because Draco had flaunted his wealth and status as often as possible when they'd been in school.

"I'm sorry," she said hesitantly. "I seem to have upset you; that wasn't my intention."

Draco shook his head angrily as they sat at a small table in the corner. He fidgeted with the handle of his cup for several minutes before looking up at her. "It's all right. You had no way of knowing. I've tried to keep it quiet, anyway."

"Keep what quiet?"

"Putting it mildly, you could say I'm only a Malfoy because I refuse to change my last name." Draco stared sullenly at his tea.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

He heaved a great sigh. "My father disowned me. The first night we bumped into each other here, the day of the attack at the Ministry, he cut me off. I may as well be dead."

"That's terrible!" Hermione exclaimed in outrage. "What on earth could have made him do that?"

Draco took an inordinately long amount of time to take a sip of his tea, and spent even longer setting it back on the table and making sure it was _just so_. "My wife left me," he finally mumbled.

"Oh. Draco, I'm so sorry. That must be very hard for you."

Draco looked into her eyes, clearly startled at her use of his first name. "I mean, yeah, it sucks that she left, but I don't miss her."

"No?"

He shook his head. "The reason I've been here so often lately is because one of the healers is…" He sighed and ran one hand down his face in embarrassment. "She's teaching me how to take care of my kid."

Hermione's eyes widened. "But why didn't you ask a friend or old classmate for help?"

Draco looked at her incredulously. "None of _my_ friends are even remotely capable of caring for infants. They were all raised just the same as I was. As for old classmates, I didn't ask because I knew I wouldn't be received well by any who knew what they were doing."

"You could've asked me," she said softly.

"And how would your dear husband have handled that? We _were_ so damn close in school, after all," he said sarcastically.

"All right, all right. So what are you doing now?" She watched him with concern. "Do you and Scorpius have a place to stay?"

Draco looked startled again. "How do you know his name?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I do read the newspaper, you know."

"Oh. I forgot about the birth announcement. It feels like a lifetime ago."

"He's almost a year old now, isn't he?"

"Ten months," Draco agreed, nodding his head. "It's too fast."

She smiled. "I know what you mean. Rose has grown so quickly as well. She's nearly seven months herself."

"I didn't know you had a kid."

"Well, Weasleys aren't exactly big news or anything. There are already so many of them that one more hardly merits notice," Hermione laughed.

Draco chuckled appreciatively. "It's true. They breed like damn rabbits."

"Indeed they do. Ginny just had another baby a few months ago, and Bill and Fleur are expecting their third."

He eyed her suspiciously. "You're not pregnant again, are you?"

"Godric, no!"

They both laughed easily for a moment.

"Honestly," Hermione said, returning to her seriousness. "Do you and Scorpius have somewhere to stay?"

Draco nodded. "It was quite the happy coincidence, really. Turns out McGonagall needed a new Potions Master, and I happened into Longbottom as he was picking up more applications for the position. He handed me in to McGonagall instead."

Hermione laughed. "That sounds like Neville. That's great, though. I think the students at Hogwarts will learn a lot from you."

"Thanks."

She fixed him with a faux stern glare. "But don't you dare treat those Gryffindors the way Snape did. I'll tell Neville to take points from you."

Draco smirked at her. "Who's going to keep me in line? So far as I'm aware, there won't be any bossy know-it-all Muggleborns in any of my classes to tell me what to do."

"I think there was a compliment in there somewhere," Hermione mused.

"Most likely."

"Listen, I've got to get going," she said somewhat reluctantly. "Everyone is gathering at my house for Harry's birthday."

Draco looked back into his empty teacup. "Oh."

"Do you want to come?"


	5. In the Lions' Den

A/N: This chapter (and the next) are _slightly_ filler. Don't worry, the action is coming. Stay tuned.

A few warnings/disclaimers: Draco is obviously a bit OOC. This is an AU fic, after all. He will still be the Draco we all love to hate to love, though. Also, I don't own anything HP, unfortunately. I wish I did. As always, JKR is God.

* * *

Chapter Four: In the Lions' Den

 _28 July 2006, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

* * *

Draco gaped at Hermione.

"I mean, I know you've not got on well with any of us in the past, but it's never too late to start over, right? It's okay if you don't want to come, I'd understand. I just thought—"

"No, it actually sounds nice," Draco interrupted, "I just would have to pick up Scorp. He's still at Hogwarts."

Hermione smiled. "In that case, we could just ask Tonks to bring him. She and Remus are coming to the party as well."

Draco frowned. "How would you get a message to her? An owl won't arrive before she leaves for the party."

"A…Patronus message?" Hermione said haltingly.

"Oh." He looked at his perfectly polished shoes. "Right."

"What is it?" Hermione asked gently.

"It's just…I've never tried casting a Patronus before. I didn't want to face the possibility that it wouldn't work because—" He gestured to his left forearm uncomfortably.

"Oh…you know, I really don't think that would stop you from being able to cast a Patronus. Snape was able to cast one, and he had the Mark as well." Hermione looked at him in concern.

"I never bothered to learn the incantation," Draco muttered reluctantly.

Hermione smiled gently. "It's not too complicated. It's actually powered by your happiest memories."

Draco scowled again. "Well, then it definitely wouldn't work."

Hermione appeared to be at a loss for words.

"Never mind," he said hurriedly. "It's not important that I deal with it right now. Let's just go."

Hermione nodded and conjured her Patronus. Draco watched in awe as she gave the silver otter the message and it swam out of sight. When it was gone, Hermione placed her hand on his elbow and Apparated them from the cafeteria to the front hall of Grimmauld Place.

"You live _here_ , Granger?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Harry gave it to me and Ron as a wedding present," she replied.

He nodded serenely. "I like what you've done with the place."

Hermione frowned. "How do you know what it used to look like?"

"Family stories. Personally, I'm grateful I never had the misfortune of meeting Aunt Walburga. She sounds like a bloody nightmare."

"She was."

Draco looked down the hall curiously. "Did you manage to get her portrait off the wall?"

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed. "Ron wanted to use Fiendfyre, but I convinced him that it would burn down the entire house. Instead, I combined a Muggle remedy with magic, because the Permanent Sticking Charm that was used on the portrait acted a lot like Muggle superglue."

"It worked, I assume," Draco snarked.

"Of course it did," she replied with a smug smile. "I always succeed at everything, remember?"

He chuckled ruefully. "Believe me, I could never forget, Granger."

Hermione turned to face him. "Perhaps you shouldn't call me by my maiden name while you're here. Ron wouldn't like it."

"You would rather I called you Hermione?" Draco asked incredulously.

She nodded. "Actually, yes. If we're going to be friends, then we should address each other as such."

"Fair point," he conceded. "I will do my very best not to fall into old habits tonight."

Hermione smiled brightly again. "Shall we go find everyone?"

Draco gulped. "Sure."

"Don't be too nervous," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "This may be a lions' den, but we don't bite."

He narrowed his eyes. "Snakes tend to bite, however."

"Not this one, I'd wager," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

Draco sneered halfheartedly at her. "Whatever you say, Granger."

"Come on, _Draco_ ," Hermione chided. "Let's go join the party."

He followed her silently down the hall, up a flight of stairs, and into a formal drawing room. All of the Weasleys were there, along with Luna…and Blaise. Remus and Tonks had already arrived, and Tonks had a tight hold on Scorpius. He briefly noted that Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were huddled in a corner, likely gossiping as usual. Neville Longbottom and his wife Padma were there, as well as Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Ernie Macmillan, and, to Draco's complete surprise, Theo Nott. Several people he couldn't identify mulled around the room as well. Hermione gave him one last smile, then excused herself to greet her guests.

"Draco, there you are!" Tonks chirped as she made her way over to where he stood with his mouth wide open. She eyed him for a moment. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head to clear it. "Yeah, sorry. I…what is Theo doing here, Dora?"

She shrugged. "I guess he's friends with Harry or something. I don't really know." She handed Scorpius over.

"I haven't spoken to him or Blaise in several years," Draco confided softly.

"Why not?"

"It's stupid. We fell out of touch after Astoria and I got married."

Scorpius interrupted the conversation by smacking his father on the face. Draco looked down at him with an amused smirk. Scorpius stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. Chuckling, Draco repeated the action, making his son shriek with laughter. Tonks watched the exchange with one eyebrow raised.

"Do you want to take him to the play room?" she asked.

"Sure. Where is it?"

"In the basement." At Draco's alarmed expression, she reassured, "Don't worry, Hermione fixed it up when she and Ron had little Rosie. It's completely safe."

Draco nodded warily and followed his cousin to the playroom. All of the other children that had been brought along were scattered throughout the large space, being supervised by Percy Weasley and his wife Audrey. Audrey held a toddler with bright red hair on her lap, and another girl about four-years-old was in Percy's arms. When Percy spotted Tonks and Draco, he walked over with a smile on his face.

Tonks smiled back, then returned her attention to Draco. "See? I told you the basement was perfectly safe."

"Yes, you did," he admitted. It was, too. The once dark and frightening room had been painted cherry red, and soft multi-colored foam padded the floor.

"Well, holler if you need anything." Tonks grinned at him one more time before going back to the party.

"Hello, Draco," Percy said cordially.

"Weas—I mean, Percy," Draco stuttered.

Percy laughed easily. "This is Scorpius, I take it."

Draco nodded. "Who does everyone else belong to?"

Percy gestured to the girl in his arms. "This is Molly, and that's Lucy—" He pointed to the toddler on his wife's lap— "they're my daughters, obviously. You already know Teddy, of course." Teddy Lupin looked up from where he sat playing with two blonde-haired babies and waved merrily. "That's Lorcan and Lysander playing with Teddy. They're Blaise and Luna's twins; they just turned one."

"Okay. Wow. I didn't know Blaise had kids."

"It is a bit unexpected." Percy gestured to the opposite corner of the room, where two more redheaded girls were playing with dolls. "Those are Bill's girls, Victoire and Dominique." Pointing to the center of the room, he added, "That's James, but you probably knew that already."

Draco nodded. The bright green eyes were a dead giveaway.

"Over there is Theo's son, Thomas," Percy said, pointing to a crib where two babies were sound asleep. Thomas had light brown hair, and was rather chubby like his father had been in his youth. The other baby had extremely curly red hair springing out from her head in every which way. "And Rose."

Draco's eyes widened. "Theo has a kid, too?"

Percy nodded. "You haven't seen your friends in a while, have you?"

"Not for nearly five years. Who is Theo married to?"

"He's not anymore. His wife died in childbirth."

"Oh."

Percy cleared his throat and pointed to a plastic kitchen, where a toddler with shiny black hair was playing. "That's Padma and Neville's daughter, Indrina."

"Why haven't I met her yet?" Draco asked in confusion. "Both Padma and Neville are at Hogwarts."

"They don't actually live there, though," Percy explained. "They have a small house down in Hogsmeade. Padma's mother watches Indrina during the day."

"Oh," Draco repeated. "I feel so out of the loop."

"You'll be inside the loop in no time."

Draco smiled ruefully. "So it would seem."

Percy pointed toward the last corner of the room, directly opposite the basement door. "That's Dean's son Tyson and Seamus's son Tarun."

"I take it Seamus married Parvati?" Draco asked. "The name sort of speaks for itself."

Percy laughed loudly. "The poor boy has the strangest heritage. His middle name is Lachlan."

"Ouch." Draco grimaced in sympathy for the boy. "So who'd Dean marry?"

"Her name is Maisy. Reynolds, I think her maiden name is. I never met her at school."

"How could I have missed so many important things happening?"

Percy shook his head. "Time flies, I suppose. Oh, Ernie Macmillan's daughter is around here somewhere. Her name's Ellen. She's three."

"Is there anyone at this party that _doesn't_ have a kid?" Draco asked wryly.

"Lavender," Percy said immediately. "She's apparently enjoying the single life at the moment."

"I suppose that was to be expected."

"Well, you can leave Scorpius here if you'd like. He'll be in good hands."

Draco nodded. "I appreciate it. He's rather fond of Quidditch figurines, if there are any of those around."

"All right," Percy replied, taking Scorpius from Draco's arms.

Nervously, Draco left the basement and returned to the drawing room. Harry and Ginny were in the room now, Ginny cuddling Rhys in her arms. He approached the pair, and Harry watched him warily the entire time he was walking over.

"Malfoy."

"Potter."

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

Draco inclined his head toward her. "Other Potter."

Both Harry and Ginny smiled at that, and the tension was immediately erased. Draco sighed internally with relief. Harry leaned over and whispered something in his wife's ear. She kissed him on the cheek, then turned and joined Hermione by the fireplace.

"So," Harry said, "is it true? They're saying all 'round the house that Draco Malfoy's in this room. So it's you, is it?"

Draco's eyes widened when he recognized the wording from a very similar conversation they'd had over fifteen years ago on the Hogwarts Express. "Yes?" he said cautiously.

"Well, my name's Potter. Harry Potter."

Remembering what had happened in the compartment when he'd first introduced himself to Harry and Ron that day, Draco snickered.

Harry scowled at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask any details about you; my wife told me all the Malfoys have blonde hair, pointy noses, and angry facades that they don't need. You'll soon find out that some Wizarding families are much better than others, Malfoy. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He stuck out his hand to shake Draco's.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself…now." He reached out and took hold of Harry's hand. "And it's not you."

Harry grinned. "D'you reckon we'll manage to be friends this go 'round?"

"I certainly hope so. I can't handle any more animosity in my life. It's exhausting," Draco sighed. He paused, then added, "What do you mean all Malfoys have pointy noses?" He touched the tip of his nose. "My nose isn't pointy!"

Harry laughed loudly.

Hermione, who had come up behind Draco during the conversation, added, "Your nose isn't pointy, Draco. Well, not anymore. It looked a little bit like a shard of glass when we were in school."

He glared at her. "Thank you for that horrible observation, Granger," he teased.

Unfortunately, Ron had just appeared at Hermione's side. "Malfoy!" he shouted, "what the hell are you doing in my house?"

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. "I invited him, Ron."

He shook his head angrily. "Why would you do that? He's not our friend! He doesn't belong here!"

"He's _my_ friend, Ronald! And Harry's, too." She stuck her fists on her hips. "Quit making a scene."

Ron rounded on Harry, looking ready to spit fire. "What is she talking about, Harry?" he demanded.

Harry sighed. "We've talked about this before, Ron. What is the point of holding onto old grudges, huh? Malfoy clearly isn't the bigoted bastard he was in school. Hell, _I'm_ not the same! I've more important things to worry about now, like my wife and sons." He shook his head. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Fuck you." He spun to face Hermione again. "I want Malfoy out of here right now!"

"Ronald! That's enough!" Hermione shouted.

Draco finally shook his head, and spoke up. "No, Hermione, it's fine. I can go." Frowning, he turned around and began heading for the basement once more.

"Since _when_ does he call you Hermione, Hermione?" Ron yelled.

The sharp sound of flesh on flesh reverberated around the room, and everyone went still. Draco could hear a fly buzzing over in one of the windows. He turned around, only to see Ron holding a hand to his cheek, his mouth wide open and his eyes bulging in shock. Hermione was glaring at him with her fists on her hips once more.

"I said that's _enough_!" she said coldly. "If you can't act civilly, then leave. I won't have you ruining Harry's birthday party over something this ridiculous!"

Finally closing his mouth, Ron glared at his wife with darkening eyes. "Fine," he spat. "I'll just leave then."

He stormed out, his face a nasty shade of puce. Everything was still as deathly silent as before; the spell only broke once the loud slam of the front door reached the room. Suddenly very uncomfortable, Draco began to back out of the drawing room. This whole mess had occurred because of him, and it was extremely awkward to have every person in the room stare at him.

"Draco, you okay, mate?" Blaise spoke up from the sofa, where he had his arm slung around Luna's shoulders.

Draco stared at his old friend in shock. "I…er…"

"I'm really sorry about him," Hermione said to the room at large. "Please carry on."

Harry shrugged. "Don't worry about it, man. He'll come around."

"We won't give him a choice," piped up Fred from the buffet table.

"Too right!" George agreed.

Draco was absolutely dumbfounded. It seemed as though everyone in the room had taken his side in that fiasco, but he couldn't fathom why. Aside from Harry and Hermione, he'd really not given any of the others— _including_ Blaise and Theo—a reason to like or trust him. And yet…

"Draco?" Hermione tilted her head in concern.

He shook his head. "Yeah, sorry. I'm fine. I can leave, though. Really, I don't want to cause anymore trouble for you." He turned to Harry. "I'm sorry I ruined your party."

Harry gave him a weird look. "What do you mean? That was the most exciting thing that's happened all night!"

Several people in the room burst into laughter, instantly lightening the mood.

"It's true!" the Weasley twins chorused.

Reluctantly, Draco smiled. "All right."

Harry grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "How about some food?"

"I could go for that."


	6. Preparations

A/N: More filler. Some of it is pretty enticing, I won't lie. You'll likely enjoy bits, if not all of it. Hopefully all of it. :)

* * *

Chapter Five: Preparations

 _17 August 2006, number twelve Grimmauld Place_

* * *

Hermione and Ron had fought plenty of times over the years, but this one was by far the worst. She had gone months without speaking to him before when they'd been in school. It had hurt then, but she managed to move past it. This, however, felt very much like the end of their marriage.

Ron had slept in Sirius's old room since the night of Harry's birthday party. He awoke early and was already at work by the time Hermione was up. So she wearily cared for their daughter by herself, dropped her off with Molly every morning, picked her up after work. Rose missed her daddy; she often called for him when she awoke from naps or when she was playing. But Ron wasn't around.

Hermione cried herself to sleep almost every night. Yet she didn't confide in any of her friends the trouble going on in her home. It wasn't that she was ashamed— she wasn't— but more that she didn't want to burden them. And thus she suffered in silence for two weeks.

...

Hermione put one foot inside the fireplace, on her way to take Rose to the Burrow, when a majestic eagle owl interrupted her. She backtracked and placed Rose back in her high chair. She took the scroll from the owl's leg holster, gave the bird a treat of thanks, then finally opened the short note.

 _Hermione,_

 _I hope I'm not bothering you. My mother decided to change the location of the Victory Celebration so that I can still attend. I'm not certain what she told my father, but he obviously cannot help with setup. Is there a chance that you'd be available? I wasn't sure who else to ask._

 _Draco_

Hermione stared at the note. Why would Draco ask her for help decorating? She'd never really enjoyed that sort of thing, especially when there were books to read and medical discoveries to be made. It just seemed so unnecessary. Still, she felt as if this opportunity might be a much-needed distraction.

 _Draco,_

 _Where has the celebration been moved?_

 _H_

She scrawled the quick note and sent it back with Draco's owl, then pulled Rose out of her high chair again and took the floo to the Burrow. Molly was waiting in the family room for them, and smiled brightly at her granddaughter.

"There's my Rosie!" she crowed.

Rose squealed happily. "Nana!"

Molly took Rose from Hermione's arms, then turned a concerned gaze on her daughter-in-law. "Hermione, what's wrong? You've seemed so unhappy for the past couple of weeks."

Hermione shook her head. "It's nothing, really."

"You don't have to lie to me. I've noticed Ron hasn't been around, you know."

She slumped onto the sofa. "You saw the fight we had at Harry's party."

Molly sat beside her, settling Rose on the floor to play with the toys. "That's nothing new, though, right? You've always worked things out before."

"I don't know if it's going to be so easy this time, Molly," Hermione sighed.

"Why not?"

"He hasn't even said one word to me since then. I haven't seen him at all! It's like he's been hiding from me. I don't know what to do." She took a deep breath, trying to fight back her misery, but a sob escaped anyway.

"Oh, Hermione," Molly said, pulling her into a hug, "it'll be all right. Ron can be stubborn, but he'll come around, I know it."

"I miss my mum," Hermione cried.

Molly squeezed her tighter. "I know, dear. I know. Arthur is still trying to find a way to bring your parents home."

With a sniffle, she pushed out of Molly's arms and wiped the tears from her face. "I should get going to work."

"Maybe you should take a day off. Take some time for yourself; I can still watch Rose."

"I'll think about it." She stood up and walked to the fireplace.

"Mama?" Rose said worriedly from her perch on the floor.

Hermione turned around and knelt down beside her daughter. "It's okay, love."

"Sad?" Rose asked.

"A little," she admitted.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, it's because I miss Daddy."

Rose threw her arms around Hermione's neck and held her tightly. Hermione had to fight back another wave of tears at her daughter's compassion. "Mummy loves you, Rosie. I'll see you after work."

She extracted herself from Rose's grip and stood up. Molly gave her another quick hug, then she stepped back into the fireplace. She had barely reached the lobby of St. Mungo's when Draco's familiar eagle owl landed on her shoulder. With a tiny smile, Hermione removed the new note from the owl's leg holster.

 _Hermione,_

 _It's been moved to Kilkenny Castle, in Ireland. Apparently Mother knows the family that owns it; they're wizards. I don't know why Mother insists we have to begin the setup two weeks before the actual celebration, but I'll be there all day today._

 _D_

She turned the scroll over, pulled a self-inking quill from her bag, and quickly scrawled back that she would be there soon. Then she sent Draco's owl on its way. As Hermione prepared to Apparate (for she had been to Kilkenny Castle once with her parents when she was younger), she briefly wondered why Narcissa Malfoy would want to go so far away for the Victory Celebration. Sure, Ireland had been affected in the war, but England had been far worse off.

Hermione arrived in the courtyard of Kilkenny Castle without incident, and briefly admired the gardens and fall leaves on the trees. Then she walked past the lavish fountain and climbed the stairs to go inside. Draco stood just inside the entrance, magicking a huge banner into place above the doors. It read _Let the peace continue!_

"Hey," she said softly.

Draco started and spun around, dropping the banner to the marble floor in the process. "You're here!"

She frowned at him. "Didn't you get my return owl that I'd be here soon?"

Draco smirked. "It takes a bit longer than ten minutes for an owl to reach Ireland from London."

"Sorry," Hermione said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Shouldn't you be at work? I didn't expect you would come until after your shift today."

She shrugged. "I needed a break from work…a distraction."

Draco moved further into the castle, sat down on a plush sofa, and patted the space next to him. "Why?"

Hermione took the seat offered to her. "Things with Ron are…not so great."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come to the party; it only caused problems." Draco slumped his shoulders.

She shook her head fiercely. "It isn't your fault, Draco. Don't think that."

"Why not?" he demanded. "Things were great between you two until I showed up."

"Not really," she sighed. "We were happy for the most part, but ever since the attack at the Ministry, Ron has been spending more and more time at work. When he _is_ home, he's distracted and angry. The night of the party was just the straw that broke the camel's back."

"The straw that what?" Draco asked, a confused look on his face.

Hermione chuckled, though the sound wasn't a happy one. "It's a Muggle saying. It just means that it was the tipping point, the last thing that caused the problem to explode."

"Oh." After a short silence, he asked, "Why didn't you tell anyone that you and Ron were having problems?"

"It didn't seem like such a big deal." She shrugged. "We've had problems before and always worked them out. I figured he'd be fine once the case was closed."

Draco nodded slowly. "But you'll make things work. You're too smart to just let everything fall apart."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "Thanks."

"Well, shall we get things set up, then?" He stood up and offered her his hand.

She took it. "Let's. Where do we start?"

He gestured back at the fallen banner. "Right there."

They both walked back to the doorway. Draco pulled out his wand, and Hermione followed suit. They lifted the banner in tandem and affixed it to the ceiling. Hermione studied it for a moment, then twirled her wand in a circle. Draco looked at her and grinned. She had changed the color from dark blue to a cheery sunshine-yellow. The bottom of the banner was charmed to rain confetti that disappeared a foot from the ground.

"I like it," he approved.

She shrugged. "Molly did something similar at my wedding."

Draco led Hermione through the castle to a large ballroom. "We'll be setting up most of the interior first, and the tents outside will be put up the day before the celebration."

"It really doesn't make sense that we need to set up so early, then," she mused.

"No, it most certainly doesn't."

"What's next?"

"We've got to conjure tables and set them up around the perimeter of the room. Mother has an idea for centerpieces that she's been working on. She gave me a sketch to work from." Draco pulled the piece of parchment from his pocket.

Hermione looked around the room, scrutinizing the space. "There are usually about five hundred people that show up. So, factoring in the tents outside—assuming they'll have tables, too—this room should probably have about twenty tables."

"Sure," he replied. "Can you take care of that while I prepare the centerpieces?"

She nodded. "Tablecloths?"

"No, Mother already has those."

Grateful for the distraction, Hermione began conjuring circular tables and levitating them to places along the walls. She decided small clusters of the tables would feel homier, so she placed three of them together in each corner and strategically across the huge room. She quickly added four chairs to each table. Something was still missing, though. She tilted her head to one side and studied the space once more.

"I've got it," she muttered to herself.

With a graceful swish of her wand, she conjured four comfy couches and placed them along each wall in between the clusters of tables. Upon further study, Hermione flicked her wand again, and plush rugs appeared underneath each corner cluster. They were decorated in the Hogwarts house colors, one each for Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.

Draco approached her, appraising her handiwork. "This could be a room for Hogwarts alumni."

"What do you think?" she asked. "A Hogwarts crest rug across the center of the floor?"

He nodded in approval. "Definitely."

Hermione conjured the rug, then turned to face him. "Let's see those centerpieces."

Draco shifted uncomfortably, but summoned them over. "This is what they are _supposed_ to look like," he said, handing her Narcissa's sketch.

Narcissa had drawn an elegant statuette, with crossed wands behind the figure. It was Dumbledore in perfect detail. Hermione looked at one of the statues Draco had created. It looked reminiscent of an ancient house elf with bratwurst behind it.

She bit back a laugh. "Well, it's a good start."

Draco snorted. "No it isn't. I've never really been that great with conjuring things out of thin air. Definitely better at potions."

"It's always easier to perform magic on something you can see," she consoled. "It's taken me a lot of practice myself."

"No it hasn't," he argued. "You're just good at everything."

At this, Hermione did laugh. "That's a good one, Draco."

He chuckled. "Well, are you going to rescue me or not?"

She glanced back at the piece of parchment. Scrawled off to one side was a list of names—a list of people that had died during the war. She immediately understood Narcissa's intent.

"Your mother wanted to make statues of each of these people," Hermione said.

"Yes."

"Let's get started, then."

She walked over to one of the couches, levitating Draco's horrid statuettes behind her. Stacking them on the floor beside her, she sat down and began transfiguring, though she may as well have been starting from scratch. Draco joined her on the couch, doing what he could to help…which wasn't much.

They spent the next several hours repairing his poor attempt at art, often laughing at the strange features he'd given the statues. At one point, Hermione began laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. It felt good to laugh; she hadn't laughed since Harry's birthday.

At five o'clock, Hermione's wand began vibrating in her hand, signaling the end of her shift at work. She stood up, reluctant to leave. Draco also got to his feet, looking at her in confusion.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I just have to go now," she explained. "It's time for me to pick up Rose."

"Well, I'll walk you out, then."

Hermione remained silent as they headed for the front doors once more. She noticed that Draco was watching her out of the corner of his eye, but couldn't fathom why he would do so. It was odd. They stopped just underneath the banner, immediately getting covered in the confetti. Hermione looked up, smiling. When she returned her gaze to Draco, he chuckled.

"You have confetti all over your face."

She wiped her hands over her face a couple times. "Better?"

Without answering, Draco took a step closer and reached out to her. His hand lightly brushed against her cheek as he wiped away another piece of confetti. He didn't remove his hand when he was done, however. Instead, he gently cupped her cheek.

Craving the contact, Hermione subconsciously leaned into the touch. She closed her eyes, trying to sort out her muddled thoughts. Upon opening them once more, she realized Draco had moved even closer. They were practically nose-to-nose. Then he leaned forward and kissed her.

At first, she was shocked and remained perfectly still. But as the moment sank in, she began to respond. She wound her arms around Draco's neck, and he gently placed his hands on her lower back. The kiss stayed slow and gentle for a several moments, until Draco pulled her even closer and sought entrance to her mouth.

Hermione reciprocated the action, turning the kiss into something deep and full of need. She clutched handfuls of his hair. He fisted his hands in her blouse. When he finally broke away, it was only to trail small kisses down her neck. She let her head fall back in complete bliss. The movement brought Draco back to her lips, and he resumed kissing her fiercely. That was when reality returned. Hermione gasped and pulled back from him, her eyes wide in distress.

"I—I have to go," she whispered.

Hermione Apparated on the spot, not even bothering to get a reply before doing so. She landed at a park near the Burrow, and slumped onto a bench, absolutely mortified at her actions. How could she have done that? Just because she hadn't seen Ron for a while didn't merit her passionately snogging another man. She was married, for Godric's sake!

She forced herself to calm down, and vanished all of the confetti from her hair and clothes. When she felt like she had pulled herself together, she made sure her appearance wasn't disheveled, and walked the rest of the way to the Burrow. Molly and Rose were in the kitchen eating dinner when she walked in.

"Why don't you join us for dinner," Molly said.

Hermione sat down on Rose's other side. "Hey, Rose."

"Mama!"

She smiled. "Did you have a good time with Nana today?"

Rose nodded.

Hermione turned her attention to the food set out on the table and filled a plate for herself.

"Hermione?" Molly said hesitantly. "I talked to Ron today. And he's on his way over to have dinner with us."

She looked up at her mother-in-law in surprise. "What?"

"He should be here soon."

As Molly finished speaking, the door to the kitchen opened. Hermione spun around, and there was Ron, silhouetted in the doorway. He entered the room slowly, warily. Hermione couldn't help herself; she jumped up from her chair and flung herself at her husband. She buried her face against his shoulder and began crying.

Ron sighed deeply and wrapped his arms around Hermione. He pulled her close and rested his forehead atop her curls, the way he did when he had missed her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Hermione shook her head and wiped away her tears. The bit of guilt she felt at kissing Draco earlier melted away as her husband held her close. "Please come home," she mumbled into his shirt.

She felt him nod. Without further thought, she stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him fervently. His strong arms tightened around her waist and lifted her into the air.

"Daddy?"

The pair broke apart at the sound of their daughter's voice.

"Rosie," Ron said softly, placing Hermione back on her feet.

Rose stood up in her highchair and reached for her father. "Daddy!"

He scooped her up and held her close. Hermione wrapped an arm around Ron's waist and reached up to place her other hand on Rose's back. Ron kissed Rose's forehead, and then Hermione's once more.

"Let's go home," he said.

She nodded.

Molly stood up. "I think you two need a few hours alone. I'll bring Rose over before bed time."

Ron didn't hesitate to hand her over to his mother, and quickly Apparated back to Grimmauld Place with Hermione held tightly to his side. She looked around and realized that they were in the master bedroom. She understood at once what it was he was looking for. She needed it, too. It didn't take long for the kisses to begin again. It took even less time for the moment to turn passionate. Everything was finally back to normal.

* * *

 _20 August 2006, Hogwarts_

* * *

Draco walked along the fourth floor corridor, one of Scorpius's hands clasped around each of his index fingers. Scorpius was toddling along, trying to learn to walk on his own. Draco smiled down at his fair-haired son, proud of how quickly he was learning to be independent.

Scorpius turned his head to look at Draco. "Me!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You want to try by yourself?"

"Me!" Scorpius repeated emphatically.

"Okay." Draco pulled his wand from his pocket and cast a quick cushioning charm on the floor before completely releasing Scorpius. "Go ahead, son."

Scorpius giggled and took a few wavering steps forward. He teetered on his right foot, then fell flat on his bum. Before Draco could move to pick him up, Scorpius had pushed himself back up off the floor and was stumbling forward once more.

Draco followed along behind him, becoming lost in thought as they traversed the empty hallways of Hogwarts. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about that kiss with Hermione a few days ago. It made his head spin just remembering it. He had indulged in one too many fantasies about what may have happened had they continued. He knew how inappropriate it was—he _did_. But he couldn't help what his subconscious did when he was asleep. And that was dream nonstop about Hermione Granger…er, Weasley. He was becoming unsuitably aroused for a mere walk around the school.

Draco was snapped out of his lustful reverie when he heard someone screeching indignantly at him.

"Draco Malfoy! What in Salazar's name are you doing?"

He spun around. His mother was standing at the bottom of the grand staircase, carefully levitating Scorpius into her arms. "Mother!"

"You nearly let your son fall down the stairs!" Narcissa scolded. "What the devil were you thinking about that you stopped paying attention?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. It's not important."

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but didn't push the issue.

"Why are you here?" Draco asked.

"Is it a crime to want to spend time with my son?"

"What son?" he asked bitterly. "I'm not a Malfoy anymore, remember?"

Narcissa waved a hand impatiently. "To hell with that. I don't care what Lucius says. You will always be my son."

Draco was surprised…and impressed. "So, what would you like to do? Scorp and I were just walking around the school."

"Why don't you show me your living quarters."

He rolled his eyes, but did as she requested. His set of rooms was in—surprise!—the dungeon, a few doors down from the Potions classroom. When he arrived, he waved his wand counter-clockwise to unlock the door, then held it open for Narcissa to enter. She walked in with her head held high and Scorpius resting on her hip.

Draco scanned the rooms, making sure that there was nothing embarrassing lying around. The main part of his living quarters was made up of a sitting room that was at least twice the size of a regular classroom. Along the left wall were two more doors; one led to his room, the other to Scorpius's, and each was as large as the Slytherin common room. The right wall was made up of a kitchenette. It was mostly unused, as he took his meals in the Great Hall with the other professors, but it was where he stored Scorpius's food and other supplies.

"I recognize this furniture," Narcissa said, smiling wickedly.

Draco smirked in reply. "I took it from the cottage before I left. Didn't want Father to have it, after all. And since he's pretending he doesn't know I exist, he can't come asking for it."

"Very clever."

His thoughts began to wander again, once more landing on Hermione. He remained lost in thought until his mother cleared her throat rather loudly. Draco looked up to see Narcissa glancing in disapproval at a certain part of his anatomy that had been returning to life.

"Kindly keep yourself in check, Draco," she said, sitting regally upon a couch by the fireplace.

Draco sat in an armchair across from her and shifted awkwardly. "Sorry," he murmured.

"I take it your thoughts were not lingering on Astoria," his mother intuited.

He shook his head.

"Care to divulge who it was?"

He shook his head again.

Narcissa clucked her tongue. "Now, is that any way to treat your mother after so long?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I saw you two days ago at Kilkenny Castle."

"Tosh. We didn't talk about anything important." She waved that hand imperiously again.

"It's honestly nothing important, Mother," Draco sighed.

"Nonsense. It was enough to distract you from watching your son, and he almost fell down the stairs. It would have killed him if I hadn't been there. It was also enough that you nearly embarrassed yourself in front of company. It's obviously something."

"What kind of logic is that?" Draco asked snottily.

Narcissa placed Scorpius on the floor—he immediately crawled over to where his toys were kept and began playing with his Quidditch figurines—and folded her arms angrily. "You will tell me this instant, Draco!"

He rolled his eyes again. There was no stopping Hurricane Narcissa. "It doesn't matter. Nothing will come of it; she's married."

"Why are you letting that stop you?"

Draco's mouth dropped open. "You're joking, right?"

"Of course not. It is perfectly acceptable for a rich Pureblood to take a mistress. Salazar knows your father has done it often enough."

"Just because you're okay with that doesn't mean I am!"

Narcissa sighed softly. "I know. It makes no difference to me because I don't love Lucius as a wife should love a husband. Were I not so dedicated to tradition, I wouldn't stay with him at all anymore."

"I know, Mother." He shook his head ruefully. "I won't ask her to do it. She deserves better."

"Who is it?"

"Hermione Granger." Draco finally caved and gave his mother the information she was digging around for.

"She married that Weasley cretin, didn't she?" Narcissa asked with a frown.

"Yeah. Why?"

"She deserves better than _that_!" she exclaimed. "From everything I've heard about her, and from the times I've met her, she deserves someone of equal intelligence, not an imbecile."

"She chose him, Mother."

"You should still take the opportunity. I hear things aren't so good between the two right now." Narcissa raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I won't do that," Draco persisted.

"Why not?" she demanded angrily.

Draco finally lost his temper and jumped to his feet. He pointed a finger in his mother's face and shouted, "Because I love her!"


	7. The Eighth Anniversary

A/N: This chapter is rather bittersweet, and you'll see why when you finish reading it. Once again, the only thing belonging to me here is the plot idea. The rest belongs to JKR.

Also, to the internet troll that decided to campaign against Dramione as a whole on chapter 5, if you don't like it, don't read it. You don't have to make other people feel bad by leaving word vomit all over the place.

* * *

Chapter Six: The Eighth Anniversary

 _31 August 2006, Kilkenny Castle_

* * *

The day of the Annual Victory Celebration dawned cold and bright. Hermione thought it a beautiful day to commemorate Voldemort's downfall and the Wizarding world's return to peace. She spent most of the day just relaxing with Ron, glad that they had been able to reconcile. Whatever Molly had said to him had made him see reason, and she was eternally grateful.

Because Fleur was so enormously pregnant, she offered to watch Rose (along with James and Rhys) so that the rest of the Weasleys could attend the banquet. After dropping Rose off with Fleur, Hermione returned home to get ready. She had picked out a particularly splendid set of dress robes for the occasion, and had even splurged on a stunning set of dress robes for Ron. It was about time he had some decent ones of his own, after all.

Hermione's robes were a deep burgundy that brought out the rich color of her brown eyes. They were also sleeveless and trimmed in sparkling iridescent beads. She accented the ensemble with a silver sash around her waist, and a simple silver necklace and hoop earrings. Her hair had been tamed into loose curls that cascaded down her back.

For his part, Ron looked dashing as well. Hermione couldn't help thinking of him as the wizard version of James Bond. His dress robes were black, long-sleeved, and made of a fine silken material. He wore a formal white shirt underneath and had even acquiesced to a bow tie. He had managed to comb his hair back into a very sophisticated style, keeping his usually unruly hair sleek. It had a darker tint to it with the gel that held it in place. Hermione could have swooned.

Arm in arm, they Apparated to Kilkenny Castle, where the celebration was already in full swing. Almost immediately they ran into Harry and Ginny sitting at one of the round tables in the "Hogwarts" room. Ginny gave Hermione a huge hug, and Harry clapped Ron on the back in greeting.

"So, 'Mione, what's new? I feel like we haven't seen you in ages," said Harry.

Hermione shook her head. "Not much, really." Ron tossed her a grateful look that she didn't say anything about his two-week disappearance. "I'm still stuck with that ridiculous modified Sleeping Draught. I don't know why my boss is so convinced that liquefied unicorn horn is the right additive. If anything, it would cause the potion to help someone wake up, not fall asleep."

Harry just stared at her.

Ginny laughed at him. "Never mind, Harry." She turned back to Hermione. "Have you considered using something else? I know you've exhausted all the possible bases, so maybe it's the additive that's the problem."

"That's exactly what I've been telling Noreen, but she won't listen!" Hermione huffed in frustration.

"I may not know what you two are talking about," Harry inserted, "but maybe you could do some experimenting by yourself. If you figure it out on your own time, you might be able to convince Noreen about the unicorn horn thing."

"Yeah," added Ron. "I was rubbish at potions, but I have faith in you, love."

Hermione smiled at her husband. "I know you do."

"But what about you two?" Ron aimed at his sister and best friend. "Anything new on your end?"

Harry shrugged. "Puddlemere won another game last weekend, but that's not exactly new anymore. Hello, _I'm_ the Seeker!"

Everyone at the table laughed.

"Ginny?"

"I got an offer to be the Quidditch correspondent for the Daily Prophet, but I don't know if I want to take it. I'm rather enjoying just being a mother right now." Ginny put her chin in her hand. "What do you think?"

"It sounds like it might be fun," Hermione ventured.

Ginny laughed. "You have no idea, do you? You never were much for sports, 'Mione."

"No, I really wasn't. I'm still not, I'm afraid."

Harry looked intently at Ron. "Has there been any progress on the case?"

Ron shook his head dolefully. "It's just a bunch of dead ends. It's been driving me up the wall. The only certain things we've uncovered are that the explosion took place in the Department of Mysteries and that it wasn't an accident. That's no more information than we had the day it happened."

"Do _you_ have any ideas about it?" Hermione asked carefully.

"Nothing good. I've begun wondering if it was done by Voldemort sympathizers, although why they'd go after that department is beyond me."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Are there any time turners there?"

"No. Apparently the department never got around to replacing the ones we broke in '95." Ron frowned. "I don't really know much else about the place."

"Well, enough business talk," Ginny said to break the tension. "Shall we get some of that delectable-looking food over there?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm famished."

The foursome piled their plates high with the various delicacies that were laid out. The food was so enjoyable that hardly any words were spoken during the meal; they simply ate in companionable silence.

It was turning out to be an exemplary evening.

Once they were finished eating, they made their way through the castle to the inner courtyard. There were several white tents set up, each with a dance floor, and each playing a different style of music. The closest tent was blasting music by the Weird Sisters and other Wizarding bands. Another tent hosted classical music from both wizards and Muggles. A third played Muggle music exclusively from the 1980s. Hermione didn't bother to find out what the other four tents were doing.

She grabbed Ron's hand and dragged him to the tent playing classical music. One of her favorite songs, Gluck's "Dance of the Blessed Spirits," had just come on, and Ron immediately pulled her to him. He smoothly waltzed them around the dance floor, surprisingly graceful for his lanky form (she had made him learn how to dance for their wedding). Hermione just let him lead her wherever he pleased.

"I love you so much, Ron," she sighed happily.

Ron stopped mid-twirl and pulled her close. "And I love you."

He enfolded Hermione in his arms and kissed her languidly. She forgot all about the other people in the tent and kissed him back with everything she had. Merlin, she loved this man so much. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he slid his hands up her back. Things were getting heated very quickly, but she paid no mind to it. Ron deepened the kiss even further by gently taking handfuls of her hair and bringing her impossibly closer.

When Hermione remembered to breathe, she pulled away only enough to whisper, "We should take this somewhere more private."

Ron whisked her away to an empty room in the castle without another word.

* * *

 _31 August 2006, Kilkenny Castle_

* * *

Draco slumped in a chair, hidden in a corner of the ballroom. Hermione had just left, all smiles and giggles, with her blasted husband. Draco understood that she had every right to be happy with Ron; he was even a bit glad for her that they had worked things out. And yet a more traitorous part of his brain told him that if Ron were still angry with her, he'd have a chance to swoop in. So he pouted, alone in the corner.

But Salazar, she had looked so beautiful. His hand clenched tighter around his glass of Firewhisky in frustration. What Draco had told his mother was true: there was no way that he stood a chance at being with Hermione. How he wished he hadn't agreed to have tea with her last month. How he wished he hadn't fallen in love with her. Better yet, how he wished he had seen what a remarkable woman she was back in school. Things could have been so different. Rose could have been his daughter, her adorable curls blonde instead of red. Scorpius could have been her son. They could have been happy together.

Draco downed the last of his Firewhisky and slammed the glass on the table so hard that a crack appeared in the bottom. He rolled his eyes. His mother could buy a new glass for all he cared. He pushed away from the table and stalked from the room, feeling extremely bitter and ridiculously sorry for himself. He had always been good at self-pity.

In a lot of ways, he knew he had to stay at the celebration in order to keep up appearances. It was even more important this year, now that word had gotten out about Lucius disowning him. Quite frankly, Draco didn't give a damn. He just wanted to go home and wallow. And preferably drink himself into oblivion. After all, he didn't need to be sober for the day students arrived at Hogwarts—just the day after.

He shook his head. No, he would stay and tough it out, even though he felt like smashing his head against the stone walls of the castle until there were no lingering thoughts of Hermione left in him.

Who was he kidding? He'd have to be dead in order to stop thinking about her.

As Draco wandered around the castle corridors, mumbling to himself about how _unfair_ life was, he nearly walked headfirst into Theo. He looked up, scowling. He only managed to maintain the sour look for a few seconds before Theo's words had it slipping away.

"Is your _father_ going to hear about whatever's bothering you?" he asked jokingly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Good to see you, too, Theo."

"I just about walked in on Granger and Weasley down the hall. Things were…hot…if you get my meaning." Theo smirked.

Draco frowned again. "Whatever." He _really_ didn't want to know that.

Theo raised an eyebrow in question, but didn't comment on it. Instead he said, "Narcissa did a great job with the celebration this year. It looks great."

"Yeah, thanks." Draco shuffled back and forth for a moment. "Hey, d'you want to grab a drink?"

"Sure. We have a lot of catching up to do," Theo said.

He slung an arm around Draco's shoulders and led him towards the open bar in the inner courtyard. Draco ordered another Firewhisky after slumping onto a stool. Theo sat next to him and calmly ordered a Butterbeer.

"So," Draco mumbled, "how're things with you?"

Theo shrugged and took a swig of his drink. "Could be worse, I suppose. Seems like things are pretty bad with you, if your attitude is any indication. Are you missing Astoria?"

Draco snorted. "Hardly. I'm glad the chit is gone. I've learned how to take care of Scorp on my own. It's not that."

"So what's bothering you, then?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

Theo chuckled. "You always say that. Ever since we were kids, really."

"It's not something I can fix. I just have to get over it." Draco winced as he took a large gulp of his drink. There was a reason it was called Firewhisky—it _burned_.

"You know, this is part of the reason we fell out of touch, Draco," Theo said with an edge to his voice. "You never talk about anything important, and when someone else wants to, you shut them down." He moved to get up and leave.

Draco grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back to his stool. "I'm sorry, mate."

Theo just raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Look, it's definitely not simple. I…I sort of fancy Granger." He dropped his head into his hands.

"Ah." Theo nodded. "I see your predicament."

"Like I said, there's nothing I can do to fix it, so I have to get over it."

"Tough luck, Draco." Theo patted his shoulder sympathetically.

Draco shook his head. "Enough about me. I heard at Potter's birthday that your wife passed. I'm sorry I didn't know. I should have been there for you."

"Probably," Theo conceded, "but I understand. Astoria was very effective at alienating you from everyone."

"That she was."

"Yeah."

Draco hesitated before asking his next question, but ultimately voiced it anyway. "Do you want to tell me about your wife?"

Theo smiled reminiscently. "She was pretty great, Draco. I really loved her, you know?"

He shook his head. "Not really. I was married to _Astoria_ , remember?"

"Was she at least good in the sack?" Theo asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Draco shook his head again. "It was like shagging a dead fish, mate."

"Ouch."

"Anyway, back to you."

Theo sighed. "My wife's name was Belinda. She was a year younger than Astoria, I think. We met at a pub one night and really hit it off. I liked her so much that I _didn't_ take her back to my flat and shag her. Strange, right?"

Draco chuckled. "A bit."

He shrugged. "Turns out she was in Gryffindor—go figure—and was friends with one of Ginny Weasley's cousins. That meant I got invited to all sorts of Golden Trio activities, and we all eventually became friends."

"It's surreal, isn't it?" Draco agreed.

"I asked Belinda to marry me after only three months. She was it for me, Draco. When I found out I was going to be a dad, I was ecstatic."

"It's actually a pretty great thing to be a dad," Draco mused.

Theo nodded unconvincingly. "I thought it would be, but Belinda got really sick. She couldn't keep down any food the entire time she was pregnant. I begged her to abort the baby, told her we could just adopt. I didn't want to lose her. She refused, though. She started getting horrible headaches near the end. The healers said her kidneys were failing, and that it would either be her life or the baby's in the end. You know which choice she made."

"I'm so sorry, Theo. I really wish I'd been around." Draco eyed his friend worriedly for a moment. "How are you and Thomas doing?"

"We're doing okay. I actually got a job for the Daily Prophet that lets me work from home so I can be around more. I like it." Theo smiled.

"It's a bit surprising to me that we both wound up single fathers, though through slightly different means," Draco said.

"About that," Theo said, suddenly interested. "How _did_ you manage to divorce Astoria?"

Draco shrugged. "It was fairly simple, once she took off. I had to prove that I'd tried to contact her—and I did, but she returned every owl unopened—and wait at least three months for her to come back. If she didn't, I was allowed to file for divorce under the label of absentee spouse. It was only finalized a few weeks ago, actually."

"Life is certainly not what I expected it to be," Theo mused.

"Agreed. You know—"

Draco was cut off as an explosion shook the ground. It had come from inside the castle. People all around him began screaming immediately, and he looked around in confusion, wondering what was going on. Theo sat frozen on his stool, eyes wide.

"Draco!" Harry rushed over. "Theo! We need help! There are Death Eaters here!"

Draco jumped to his feet, his expression darkening into a fierce scowl. "I'd like nothing better than to maim some Death Eaters right now."

Theo stood up and nodded. "Sure. What do we do?"

"Just follow me! We're gathering everyone that's able to fight, but it still might not be enough. There are at least a hundred of them!" With that, Harry spun around and dashed into the castle.

Draco ran after him with Theo just behind. The interior of the castle was completely destroyed. Small fires were burning everywhere, and the air was thick with black smoke. Dozens of people lay on the ground, some moving, some not. Draco averted his eyes and continued to follow Harry to their destination. It turned out to be the "Hogwarts" room. How predictable.

Scattered throughout the space, Draco could see several duels breaking out. Hermione was battling with one masked Death Eater over by the Gryffindor tables. Ron was in the center of the room, fighting alongside several other Aurors against no fewer than ten Death Eaters. Harry sprinted to another corner of the room to aid his wife in her duel. Draco was completely overwhelmed.

Before he could even consider where to begin fighting first, a thick body slammed into his side and knocked him to the ground. The person proceeded to kick him—hard—in the ribs, then dragged him back to his feet by his hair.

"You're a filthy blood traitor," the person sneered.

Draco twisted in the man's grip to see Rodolphus Lestrange glaring back at him. "Uncle," he managed through gritted teeth.

Rodolphus's lip curled. "Your entire family is a disgrace to the Dark Lord."

"Well, he's dead, so bugger off."

Rodolphus jabbed the tip of his wand into Draco's neck. "I wouldn't be mouthing off if I were you."

"Good thing you're not me, then." Draco abruptly yanked himself away from his uncle, losing a few strands of his precious hair in the process. " _Confringo_!"

Rodolphus waved his wand almost lazily and blocked Draco's spell. Wordlessly, he fired a bolt of bright purple light in retaliation.

Draco managed to block the curse just before it hit him in the face. They began fighting fiercely, equally matched in skill. Neither of them could gain an upper hand. When someone appeared at his side and began helping, Draco finally managed to Stun Rodolphus. He turned to his ally, wiping sweat from his forehead. It was Neville.

"Thanks, Longbottom," Draco said, his eyebrows disappearing into his fringe.

"Don't look so surprised," Neville chuckled. "I've been practicing."

Draco opened his mouth to respond when he noticed Hermione across the room, struggling to fight off a pair of Death Eaters. She wasn't fairing well. He rushed over without another word to Neville. Hermione barely glanced at him as he threw hexes and jinxes as rapidly as he could toward the Death Eaters.

So busy was he in battling one of the men that he didn't notice the other one toss a curse in his direction. It grazed his cheek, leaving a stinging trail in its wake. Even though he felt blood dripping down his face, Draco fought on until the two Death Eaters before him had been effectively incapacitated. Hermione tossed him a grateful look before diving back into the fray.

As the battle raged around him, Draco tried to ignore the cries of pain, the sounds of death and loss that surrounded him. He tried to focus solely on taking down as many Death Eaters as possible. He soon became lost in the near monotony of dueling masked man after masked man. At one point, he was certain he'd heard his father's voice come from behind one of the masks, but he shrugged it off in favor of making sure his friends were safe.

When he next focused on the occupants of the room, he was disheartened to realize that more Death Eaters remained standing than anyone else. Several people were obviously dead, while others were unconscious or too injured to continue fighting. Draco was about to plunge back into the sea of Death Eaters when one of them froze, drawing his attention with the sudden lack of movement. The Death Eater raised his wand into the air and muttered something under his breath that Draco couldn't catch from so great a distance. The Dark Mark blasted into the air above the Death Eater and hovered just below the ceiling.

But this Dark Mark was unfamiliar to Draco. It still had the horrid snake protruding from the mouth of the skull, but this one was in vivid color. The skull was a stark white, and the snake was a vile green; both had congealed blood smeared across them and fresh blood dripping from their fangs. The worst part, in Draco's opinion, was the menacing flames that blazed from the skull's cavities.

Dozens of people paused in mid-duel to stare at the horrifying symbol floating above their heads, and the room was suddenly in chaos again. People were screaming in terror and either running for their lives or fighting with renewed vigor.

The Death Eater that launched the Dark Mark lifted a fist into the air, and the other Death Eaters stilled. Then he began to laugh. The sound sent chills down Draco's spine. Several other Death Eaters joined in his maniacal laughter, and Draco could have sworn he recognized a couple of voices even though it wasn't possible for those people to be present.

A bright flash of green light engulfed the room, and when it had cleared, all of the Death Eaters had vanished.

What the hell? Draco stared around in confusion once more. Why had they left? They were clearly about to win, and yet they just gave up. He frowned as he thought through the things he'd learned in the short time he'd been forced to be a Death Eater. His eyes widened when he remembered that the only reason the Death Eaters would retreat from a battle they were winning was because they didn't want to kill everyone. They were simply making a point. He turned to look for Harry, to impart this realization to someone that mattered.

A familiar voice crying out in agony stopped him in his tracks. Draco spun around to see Hermione lying on the floor. He ran over to help, only to realize as he drew closer that she wasn't injured. She was draped over someone's body, sobbing in anguish.

Which could mean only one thing.

Draco inched to the side and spotted the red hair he was praying wasn't there.

Ron Weasley was dead.

.

* * *

.

A/N 2: Guys, I know. I didn't want to kill him off, but it had to happen for the plot to move forward.

Sorry that this chapter came late today. I was busy being awesome and creating a gif for you guys. I spent a ton of hours yesterday playing on GIMP and making this composite image of the Dark Mark I described in this chapter. I turned it into a gif today for your enjoyment...and to scare your pants off. No, really, don't show this to small children. Or your moms. Or grandmothers. Maybe don't even look at it yourself. You may have nightmares. XD

Find it here (just delete the space before the 'ly'):

bit. ly/2bRDXGA


	8. Lost

A/N: I cried my eyes out while writing this chapter, which is why it's so short. I miss Ron! :'(

* * *

Chapter Seven: Lost

 _5 September 2006, Ottery St. Catchpole Wizarding Cemetery_

* * *

Hermione couldn't seem to stop crying; she still hadn't come to terms with Ron's death. For fifteen years he'd been a constant presence in her life, and it was hard to believe that those days were over. It wasn't fair! As she walked slowly beside the pallbearers, holding Rose tightly, she thought of how cruel life was that it would have given her the wonderful years with Ron after the war only to rip them out from under her. If there was a God, she was officially giving him the cold shoulder.

Today they were putting Ron six feet into the ground, beside his grandparents and Uncles Gideon and Fabian. The Weasley brothers were all acting as pallbearers, along with Harry. Fred and George were at the front of the procession, one on each side. Bill and Percy were behind George, while Charlie and Harry were behind Fred. Every face in attendance was somber. The sun was shining brightly, and the weather was overly warm for September. That, too, was unfair. Hermione felt like the weather should mirror her emotions, but instead it defied them.

Upon reaching the gravesite, she collapsed into a chair beside Molly, and the two witches clung to each other as they cried. Rose sat upon her mother's lap, quiet, but not quite comprehending what was happening. Fleur hobbled over and sat on Hermione's other side to offer further support.

"Eef you ever need anyzing, 'ermione, just ask."

"Thanks, Fleur," Hermione whispered.

Molly clutched her right hand tightly as the ceremony started, barely managing to hold back loud and painful sobs. Hermione faired no better.

Arthur stood at the head of Ron's casket. "I never thought I would outlive any of my children, let alone one of my youngest," he started out in a choked voice. "We shouldn't be gathering here today under such circumstances. We should be together celebrating life and love, eating great food and enjoying each other's company." He broke off in a sob and turned away from the rest of the mourners.

Percy moved to his father's side and hugged him tightly before leading him to a seat. Everyone sat still and silent for a few moments before Harry took Arthur's place. He stared at his feet for a while, then looked at the casket even longer. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Ron was the first friend I ever had," he said, tears flowing freely down his face. "I'll never forget that day on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters when I first met the Weasley family. I had no idea back then how irreversibly my life would become intertwined with theirs. Ron was my brother in every way but blood. He showed me what it was like to have a real family—" Harry stopped and closed his eyes, his face twisting in anguish. "Even when he was being a git, Ron was still the most loyal friend a man could ask for. I wish I could go back and save him—"

Harry, too, couldn't continue, so deep was his sorrow. He shook his head mutely and returned to his seat beside Ginny. Fred and George got up next.

"I should have treated him better," George muttered. "He was a wonderful brother."

"He believed in us when almost nobody else did," Fred said just as softly. "He always knew we'd be successful. I miss him." He finished his few words in a strangled tone, as if his throat were constricting.

The twins sat down, and nobody else got up. After several minutes, Hermione couldn't take the silence anymore. It was almost worse than hearing the painful words that other people were speaking. She shifted Rose into Molly's lap and got up. As she faced the mourners, she placed her left hand on Ron's casket and stared at her wedding ring.

A quiet sob escaped before she managed to reign in her emotions enough to speak. "Ron used to drive me crazy," she whispered brokenly. "For years we tormented each other, and it wasn't until the war was upon us that I finally began to understand why it bothered me so much. I didn't think that I would fall in love when I first met Ron. I didn't think we'd build such a great life together, but when everything fell into place, it was like we had always been meant to be together." She closed her eyes, briefly remembering the last beautiful kiss they'd shared. "I'm going to miss him so much."

Hermione ran back to her seat and buried her face in Molly's shoulder, now sobbing openly. She couldn't find it in her to care if she was making a spectacle of herself. She just wanted her husband back.

Nobody else got up to say anything until Kingsley took charge. He held a small leather-bound book in his hands, opened to a page somewhere in the middle. "Surely we all do hope to someday be reunited with our lost loved ones," he said somberly, his deep voice carrying through the silence. "With the utmost faith we commend to the Mighty Merlin our brother Ronald Weasley, and we commit his body to the ground; return his magic to the aether, release his essence into the sky. Merlin keep him and grant him everlasting peace. Amen."

A murmured chorus of "amens" followed the Burial Rite. As Hermione watched through tear-filled eyes, Ron's casket was levitated into the grave, then gently covered with dirt. Kingsley waved his wand in a delicate spiral, and grass sprouted over the freshly turned earth, followed by a wreath of wildflowers. Then it was her turn again.

Hermione got back to her feet. She carelessly flicked her wand, conjuring a marble headstone. With another flick, words began carving into it:

 _Ronald Bilius Weasley_

 _1 March 1980 – 31 August 2006_

 _Beloved husband, father, and friend_

 _Cursum Perficio_

When she was finished, her shoulders sagged in utter exhaustion. Without waiting for anyone else, she began the short walk to the Burrow.

Molly caught up to her quickly, still carrying Rose. "Hermione, if you'd like, I can watch Rose for a few days, give you some time to be alone."

Hermione just nodded, then Apparated home by herself. She landed in the master bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, breaking down once more. She'd been too late to save Ron that night, and she blamed herself for his death even though she hadn't been the one to cast the fatal curse. She had seen that he was struggling to fight off one of the Death Eaters. Just as she'd been running over to help, the Death Eater she assumed was in charge had launched that strange new Dark Mark. That was when Ron was killed. The Death Eater he'd been dueling wasn't prepared to just walk away on command, and he cast the Killing Curse just before Disapparating.

It just wasn't _fair_.

What was she supposed to do without him?

After a long time spent sobbing into her pillow, Hermione rolled over, her face pressed against Ron's side of the bed, and fell into a restless sleep. She dreamed that Ron was alive and well, that nothing bad had happened, that they were happy. Upon waking, she almost expected to see him there, lying beside her.

But he was gone.

* * *

 _7 September 2006, number twelve Grimmauld Place_

* * *

The sun shone brightly through the open curtains in Hermione's room. It nearly blinded her, and she stumbled out of bed to yank the curtains shut and block out the light. A powerful sense of vertigo washed over her, making her extremely nauseous. Hermione fought back the feeling long enough to run to the bathroom in order to be sick. As she slumped against the cold porcelain of the toilet, she despaired over the fact that she was suffering physically as well as emotionally. Great. Now her extreme loss was manifesting more dramatically. Just when it seemed like her life couldn't get any worse, it decided to take another turn and send her around the bend of sanity. Her entire existence was turning into a clichéd horror film.

* * *

 _8 September 2006, number twelve Grimmauld Place_

* * *

Hermione was still sick to her stomach. After nearly twenty-four hours of being unable to ingest any food or drink, she finally summoned a box of saltine crackers and a bottle of ginger ale to her room. She nibbled on one cracker every hour or two, only to lose her stomach contents a few minutes later. She knew she ought to go to the hospital or something to avoid becoming dehydrated, but she couldn't muster up the will to care.

* * *

 _16 September 2006, number twelve Grimmauld Place_

* * *

Her condition hadn't improved much over the last couple of days. Still, Hermione did little besides nibble on her crackers in between bouts of running to the bathroom. She hadn't been this sick in a very long time. She huddled under the covers, convinced that there wasn't anything worth living for anymore. Her entire life had fallen apart in one evening. What was the point of trying anymore?

* * *

 _19 September 2006, number twelve Grimmauld Place_

* * *

"Happy Birthday to me," Hermione sang dejectedly.

And what a birthday it was turning out to be. It was her first without Ron around, and she was still miserably ill. She didn't bother doing anything special for herself aside from taking a quick shower and brushing her teeth. She didn't necessarily have to feel completely gross all day.

The doorbell rang, causing her to glance at the clock on her bedside table. It was only nine in the morning. Hermione didn't want to get up and answer the door. However, she knew it was likely a friend or family member coming to wish her a happy birthday, so she clomped downstairs, wrapped in her softest blanket. She opened the door to find Harry and Ginny standing on the stoop. She waved them in and shuffled to the drawing room.

"How are you, 'Mione?" Harry asked as he sat down.

Hermione shrugged.

"You haven't answered the door when I've stopped by lately," Ginny murmured.

Hermione shrugged again.

"You've been ignoring my floo calls, too," Harry added.

Hermione shrugged a third time.

"You're not the only one suffering, you know," Ginny snapped abruptly. "He was my brother, too. And what about Rose? She's been at the Burrow for weeks now, confused out of her mind! Both of her parents are gone!"

Hermione glared at her friends. "Might as well be!" she shouted. "I wish I had died, too!"

Harry gaped at her. "'Mione…"

"Don't. Just…don't." She shook her head. "It's best that Rose hasn't been around anyway. I've got a flu or something."

"Do you need to see a healer?" Harry asked.

"I _am_ a healer, remember?" she replied rudely.

Harry folded his arms. "Quit biting my head off. I'm just trying to help."

"Well don't."

"Maybe we should just go," Ginny said softly, placing a hand on Harry's arm. "It's pretty clear we're not wanted."

"No." Harry shook his head stubbornly. "This place is an absolute wreck. At the very least, I'm going to help clean up around here."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "I'll go cook something."

Hermione didn't bother to argue. She flopped sideways on the couch until she was lying down and allowed herself to fall asleep to the soft sounds of her friends doing what they could to help her.

When she awoke, they were gone.

* * *

 _3 October 2006, number twelve Grimmauld Place_

* * *

For two more weeks Hermione lay in her bed. She spent most of her time curled up under the covers, except for the times when she had to race to the bathroom to vomit, of course. She didn't contact anyone and refused to answer the door when anyone came calling. She was utterly miserable.

Hermione had just reemerged from the bathroom and was skulking back to bed when she was assaulted by an owl. She tried to shoo it back out the open window, but it refused to leave until she had retrieved the letter attached to its leg. She finally just ripped the scroll away from the owl in frustration, and glared at it as it flew away. Since she already had the letter in her hands, she figured she might as well read it.

 _Hermione,_

 _I know you have suffered a great loss, and I send my regards. However, St. Mungo's is in dire need of as many able-bodied healers as possible. You have been granted ample bereavement leave, and I must insist that you return to work tomorrow morning._

 _Noreen_

Hermione sighed. She was in no condition to return to work, let alone socialize with other people. And while Noreen's note was worded well, she still felt it was completely uncalled for.

"Pig!"

The normally excitable miniature owl fluttered into the bedroom in a very subdued manner and gave a very soft hoot of acknowledgement. Hermione could have sworn that the small bird had an almost downcast look on his face, as if he, too, missed Ron. After shaking her head to clear it, she turned the note from Noreen over and scrawled a quick return message on it with a quill that had been sitting on the bedside table.

 _I quit._

She tied her response to Pig's leg and instructed him to take it to her boss, then returned to her bed and buried herself under the covers. With a dejected sniffle, she curled into a ball and tried to fall asleep. It was nearly impossible, though. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she'd never see Ron's sparkling blue eyes or self-deprecating smile again. She'd never hear his absurd laugh or fight with him over the most trivial of matters.

Hermione rolled over again, and realized—with absolutely no shock at all—that she was unmistakably depressed.


	9. Time for an Intervention

A/N: AHHH! Sorry this came so late, guys! I've been crazy busy and very overwhelmed with school. I'm in this class that is about HTML and CSS, and it is quite labor and time extensive. I miss my story. :( Okay. Well, here you go. Cross your fingers that I find time for another chapter by next Monday. :/

* * *

Chapter Eight: Time for an Intervention

 _20 October 2006, Potter Manor_

* * *

"I'm worried, Potter," Draco said. "It's been nearly two months, and she still hasn't left her house. I think it's time we did something."

Harry nodded. "Ginny and I are actually planning a sort of intervention. You should be a part of it."

"Yeah, I could do that. McGonagall was just telling me she might have a position for Hermione at Hogwarts if she wants it." Draco shrugged. "It may be too soon too ask her, though."

"Maybe not," Harry replied. "It would get her mind off of things. Besides, she still hasn't seen Rose since the funeral. It's getting a bit ridiculous. Rose has come to stay here because Molly's been busy helping Fleur with Louis."

"We should bring Rose to the intervention thing then. It might snap her out of it to see her kid."

"Great idea. I think we should bring all the kids. She won't be able to swear at us that way," Harry chuckled ruefully.

Draco allowed a small smile onto his face. "So, when do we do this thing?"

"I've sent out some owls already," Harry said quickly. "Remus and Tonks are here, as well as Luna and Molly. Gin and I will be coming, obviously. And you. Is there anyone else you can think of that should be there?"

"McGonagall might be a wise choice," Draco suggested. "She certainly knows how to scold someone properly."

"Very true. I'll give her a call on the floo really quick, and if she's in, we can head over to Grimmauld Place immediately."

"All right."

"The others are in the library, if you want to join them."

"Sounds good."

Draco left the front entryway and walked to the library rather quickly. Everyone else in the intervention party was, indeed, gathered there in front of the fireplace. Tonks and Remus sat on a couch with Teddy nestled between them; Molly was bustling about, obsessively straightening books on their shelves; Luna was simply staring out the window with a dazed expression. James and Rhys were playing with toy cars on the floor by the hearth.

He cleared his throat, immediately attracting everyone's attention. "Hey."

"Draco!" Tonks said happily. "I didn't know you were coming."

He shrugged. "I sort of stopped by unannounced. I've been worried about Hermione, and thought some of her closer friends would be able to help."

"Perfect timing," Ginny said as she entered the room carrying Rose.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Thank you?"

Before Ginny could reply, Harry hurried into the room with McGonagall right behind him. "Let's do this."

"Do we Apparate there?" Luna asked airily.

Harry shook his head. "We're going to floo in. That way she won't have the chance to deny us entry."

"Good idea," Ginny replied.

One by one, the large group took the floo to number twelve Grimmauld Place. Once they had all congregated in the sitting room, Harry led them to the third floor, where the master bedroom was located.

"Gin, want to make sure she's decent?" Harry asked awkwardly.

Ginny chuckled. "Sure."

She opened the door, poked her head in, then gestured for everyone to follow her. Hermione slowly sat up in bed, watching everyone enter her room with a suspicious look on her face. The look quickly hardened to a glare.

"What are you guys doing here?" she demanded.

Harry just raised an eyebrow. "This is your official intervention." He set Rose on the large bed beside her mother. "Time to get up and be human again."

Rose crawled across the covers to her mother and climbed onto her lap. "Mama, miss you."

Hermione briefly looked surprised at her daughter's increased vocabulary, but she hid it quickly. "Hey, love."

"Look, the fact of the matter is that you are depressed, and you need to do something to help yourself. You haven't been answering the door when I come to visit—" Ginny started.

"Or answering any of my floo calls," Harry interrupted. Ginny frowned at him.

"Nor any of my owls," Draco added.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Hermione, I do understand how horrible the last couple of months have been for you. I remember well what it was like when my husband died. However, I picked up and continued living. What's more, you have a daughter that you need to care for." She fixed Hermione with a stern glare.

"With all due respect, Professor, I don't think you really know what I'm going through." Hermione turned her head and glared out the window.

"Really, Hermione, you've been hiding for long enough. Please don't shut us out anymore," Molly pleaded.

Tonks walked over and sat on the bed. "Look, we all know you're hurting. We are too—maybe not in the same way, but we are. We all miss Ron. But you can't just stop living your life. _We_ need you."

Tears began falling down her face, but Hermione refused to comment.

Remus tried next. "I think, of everyone here, I know most what you're going through. I lost nearly everyone that mattered to me in one night when I was younger than you are now. Believe me, I get it. But guess what? New people come around. If I had closed myself off from the world, I would never have married Dora or had the courage to be a father. I promise you, it does get better, but you have to try."

Hermione still didn't reply, but she began slowly stroking Rose's hair.

"You know," Luna said distractedly, "a lot of people find me a bit odd, believe it or not, and you're one of the only people that was willing to be my friend in school. I think that took an extraordinary amount of courage, really."

Draco nodded. "Same here. Nobody was interested in being kind to me until you became my friend."

"Don't give up on us now, 'Mione," Harry implored. "We really do need you."

In the end, it took two adorable black-haired boys to convince her. James heaved Rhys up onto the bed, then clambered up after. He batted his rather long eyelashes, showing off a rather impressive puppy-dog face.

"Aunt 'Mynee, why you not come see us?"

At the same time, Rhys rolled from his stomach onto his back and burbled sweetly up at her.

A tender smile crept onto Hermione's face. "I haven't been feeling very good, Jamie."

The little boy frowned. "Good now?"

After a pause, she nodded slowly. "Almost."

"In that case," Professor McGonagall said authoritatively, "I have a proposition for you."

Hermione looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Indeed. I have been very overwhelmed the last few years trying to juggle the responsibilities of being the headmistress and teaching tTansfiguration. I'm going to stop teaching just as soon as I can find a replacement. That's available, or if it's not to your liking, the position for librarian is open. One of the fourth year Gryffindors played a prank on poor Irma, and she quit on the spot. The library's been closed for ten days now, as there hasn't been anyone to look after it."

Hermione looked uneasy. "I don't know. It's not like you guys can just show up here and I miraculously snap out of it. Even magic can't make that happen."

Draco frowned. "No, magic can't make everything better. I think all of us here knows that in one way or another."

"It's true!" Tonks piped up.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her in amusement, but continued his train of thought. "I know I haven't experienced the same loss you have, but it helped me more than I thought it would to return to Hogwarts. Maybe it would help you, too."

Ginny nodded enthusiastically. "It could, you know! Tons of people we went to school with work there now, and having support would be so much better than suffering alone."

"It's just..." Hermione faltered. "Well, to put it simply, I'm depressed. It's not going to be so easy for me to just get on with life."

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Remus said, "Padma has done a lot to help me during my transformations. Her specialty is actually in trauma and mental illness. She's got some great spells and potions that have greatly improved my outlook on life."

"That's true, too," Tonks said again. "As much as I love the broody and dark Remus, the happy and positive one is incredibly sexy." She leaned up on her toes and pressed a heated kiss to her husband's lips.

"Ew! Mum!" Teddy shouted from the corner as he looked up from a hand mirror. "Not in front of impressionable children!"

Draco chuckled softly. He really loved that kid.

"Really?" Hermione asked Professor McGonagall warily. "Padma's really that good?"

"Yes, she truly is. She's really become quite an accomplished mediwitch, and we're very lucky to have her at Hogwarts."

She nodded slowly. "And...Rose and I could live at Hogwarts if I came?"

Professor McGonagall nodded.

Hermione spent a long moment fiddling with Rose's hair, twirling the curls around her index finger. She was obviously thinking through everything that this big change would encompass; her brow was furrowed, and a small frown graced her lips. "So, what if I like the sound of both open positions?" she finally asked with a small grin.

Harry laughed loudly. "There's the 'Mione we all know and love!"

Draco inhaled sharply, but covered the sound of surprise by faking a coughing fit. Nobody seemed to notice.

Professor McGonagall smiled warmly at Hermione. "If you really want both positions, I'm sure we could work out something. Perhaps some responsible teachers' assistants will work for managing the library when you're teaching."

Hermione carefully moved Rose from her lap and got out of bed only to rush at Professor McGonagall and engulf her in a hug. "Thank you," she whispered. "I really think I needed this."

She patted Hermione on the back. "I know, dear. I know."

Hermione nodded and wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks. "Thank you, all of you. I didn't realize until now just how much I needed you guys to keep me sane."

Harry pulled her into another hug. "Still, if you need anything, just let us know. We're all here for you."

She nodded against his shoulder. "Count on it."

Tonks was next in the hug line. "I'll be more than happy to watch Rosie when you're working. I already watch Scorp during the day. It'll be great for him to have someone closer to his own age."

Teddy, who had returned sitting in the corner, entertaining himself by changing his hair color, stood up and stomped his foot. "Hey! What's wrong with me playing with Scorp?"

"Nothing, love. You're just nearly grown up now, and Scorp will need someone to keep him company once you're busy with school yourself."

The eight-year-old nodded serenely. "Right."

Draco bit back a laugh. Things were definitely going better at this intervention than he had been expecting. He offered Hermione a small smile, and she responded in kind.

"Harry," Hermione said hesitantly after breaking eye contact with Draco.

"Yeah?" Harry turned to her expectantly.

"Well, I'm just wondering…do you want Grimmauld Place back? I don't know if I'll be able to bear being here anymore, now that..."

He shook his head. "I understand your reluctance, trust me. Sometimes it's still hard for me to be here because of Sirius. You could sell it, if you want to."

Draco thought briefly that maybe it would be nice to have a home to go to when he wasn't at Hogwarts, but figured that it would just go to waste if he did. He spent most of his time at the school, and it would be somewhat ridiculous to leave a perfectly good house empty for ten months out of the year.

"I think I'll do that," Hermione said softly. "Of course, I'll have to decide what things to bring with me, what to leave here…Merlin, this might take a while."

Ginny grinned. "Like was previously mentioned, we're here for you if you need anything. _Anything_. That includes moving, you know."

"Of course. Thank you, Gin. I'll gladly accept the help."

"I'm sure the kids would enjoy it as well." She eyed her boys. "Right, Jamie? Rhys?"

James nodded, while Rhys just stared at his mother.

Ginny shrugged. "Good enough, I guess."

"By the way, I'll help, too," Harry added. "I don't have Quidditch practice at all next week because we're not playing until Halloween."

"Thank you," Hermione said sincerely. "Really, I don't know what I'd do without you."

She was far from being back to normal, but Draco figured she would get there eventually. He would do whatever he could to support her in the meantime. After all, she had been there for him when his world had fallen apart. The very least he could do was be a good friend to her, even though he was still relatively new at the whole being-a-good-friend thing.

* * *

 _25 October 2006, number twelve Grimmauld Place_

* * *

Hermione pulled her hair into a high ponytail as she continued to pack her belongings into her old school trunk. She mused over her time spent at Grimmauld Place, half mourning that she would be leaving, and half relieved that the reminders of Ron throughout the space wouldn't haunt her anymore. She still missed him terribly; she always would.

"Hey, 'Mione, do you want to want to keep any of Ron's clothes?" Ginny asked softly from across the room.

She paused in her movements, considering. "Just his blue Weasley jumper. He always used to let me wear it when I got cold." She smiled a little at the memory.

Ginny fished the jumper from the stack in the closet and brought it over to Hermione. "Do you care if I take the rest of his Weasley jumpers?"

"Go ahead."

"I just thought maybe my boys would like them one day."

Hermione chuckled. "He kept all of them, Gin. There's a trunk in the attic with every single one he's gotten since he was five."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "I had no idea he did that!"

She shrugged. "It was one of the things I didn't mind indulging him in." After a pause, she added, "Maybe I should grab a couple for Rose."

"That's a good idea."

"Does it ever get any easier, Gin?" Hermione asked softly. "I don't know how to lose someone."

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. My grandparents died when I was a baby, and that's the only other death in my family until now."

"What am I going to do?" she whispered sadly. "I miss him so much."

Ginny hugged Hermione tightly. "Me too, 'Mione."

"All we can do is take one day at a time," Harry said as he entered the room, holding a cardboard box. "I thought maybe you'd like some of this furniture."

Hermione took the box from him and peered inside. He had filled it with what appeared to be doll furniture. She shifted through the contents, then nodded. Most of the furniture within the box was from Rose's room, which would be a necessity in their move. Harry had also included all of the large toy furniture from the play room, the ebony table and benches that Ron had made when they first moved into Grimmauld Place, the plushest sofa in the house, and a rocking chair.

Harry smiled sadly. "Is there anything else you want to keep?"

She looked over at the king-sized bed in the middle of her bedroom and considered bringing it for a brief moment. But she couldn't bring herself to shrink it down and add it to the box. There was just too much history with all of the furniture in this room, and she knew it would break her heart to continue using it.

"I've got all of my clothes and Rose's as well. I just want the books from the library."

Harry grinned a little wider and pulled a small coin purse from his pocket. "They're all in here," he said, tossing it to her.

Hermione caught the purse and smiled fondly as she heard books tumbling around in it. "Undetectable Extension Charm?"

"Yep."

"I've taught you well, Harry Potter."

"Yes, you have," he chuckled.

"Harry, did you remember to pack the books that were in the study? Hermione had a few shelves full in there," Ginny asked.

Harry smacked his forehead. "No, I completely forgot!"

"All right, let's go get those." Ginny waved her husband toward the bedroom door. "'Mione, are you going to get the trunk full of Ron's jumpers?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, I've got it."

As her friends headed downstairs to the study on the second floor, she turned and went up to the sixth floor, where the access to the attic was located. She pulled on the cord that extended the rickety ladder and climbed into the room. It was the only place in her home that she'd allowed to stay relatively dark and dusty. It was only used for storage, so it didn't matter what it looked like. She did, however, keep it very neatly organized.

She looked around the musty space, carefully examining every trunk and plastic bin. She'd kept all of her old school homework, for some reason. That could be left behind. Ron had his humongous collection of chocolate frog cards in one plastic bin, neatly organized in hundreds of nine-pocket plastic sheets. Maybe one of her nephews or nieces would be interested in the cards, but she wasn't. With a shrug, she levitated the bin to the bottom of the ladder.

Hermione walked slowly around the room. The cage that Ron had kept Scabbers in was in here, though why she'd even allowed that into her house, she couldn't remember. One bin held the remnants of her attempt at SPEW. She shook her head as she remembered the immensely stubborn and bossy girl she used to be.

With nothing else of interest to her, Hermione levitated the trunk containing Ron's old jumpers to the bottom of the ladder, then began the descent herself. She had just barely stepped onto the rungs when she was hit with severe vertigo. Hermione clutched at her head with one hand, trying to stop the spinning and swaying of the hallway. Red light began pulsing behind her eyelids. Vaguely, she knew she had to get off that ladder; she began moving, only to have her foot slip off of the rung and upset her already tenuous balance.

Hermione tumbled to the ground. With a final burst of red light, she crash-landed on Ron's old trunk and blacked out.


	10. Returning to Hogwarts

A/N: As some of you may have noticed, my username is different now. I thought it was pretty clever, really. ;) I'm not completely sure I like how this chapter turned out, so hopefully you guys like it.

* * *

Chapter Nine: Returning to Hogwarts

 _25 October 2006, number twelve Grimmauld Place_

* * *

Hermione thought she could hear voices calling out to her, but couldn't make her muscles move. Everything was dark, and her body felt too heavy. Somehow, it seemed as though the room was still spinning around her. It made her nauseous.

"Hermione!"

A pair of warm hands descended upon her shoulders, and she winced internally at the pain that ran up and down her back at the movement.

"Wake up, 'Mione. Come on."

The voice was Harry's. She tried to pry open her eyelids to reassure him that she was fine, but her body wasn't responding to the commands her brain was giving it. She began feeling panicky and claustrophobic. Why couldn't she move?

"Ginny!"

A patter of footsteps running up the stairs sounded, followed by a loud gasp. "Godric! What happened?"

"Best I can figure, she fell. _Rennervate_ didn't work; it was the first thing I tried. She won't wake up." Harry sounded more panicked than Hermione felt.

"St. Mungo's?" Ginny proposed, sounding wary.

"What else can we do?"

"Come on, then. We'll Apparate there."

Hermione felt as though she were being pressed in a juicer for a few seconds, then the pain returned full force. There was a new buzz of sound that echoed around her; she figured Harry and Ginny had brought her to the hospital, for that was what they had discussed. Her brain felt so fuzzy.

"Is that Healer Weasley?" a familiar voice called out.

"Yeah," she heard Harry reply. "She just collapsed; I don't know why."

"Bring her this way," the person instructed. "We'll run some diagnostic spells and try to wake her up."

Hermione acutely felt each movement as Harry followed the other healer into an exam room. The pain hadn't lessened in the slightest, and she still couldn't do anything of her own volition. She realized a bit belatedly that her thoughts were still muddled. Had she been drugged? She couldn't remember. Where was Ron? Why hadn't he been the one to bring her to the hospital? Nothing made sense.

And then, suddenly, her eyes fluttered open. She swiveled her gaze to the healer standing beside the bed. The woman was holding her wand up to Hermione's temple. Whatever she'd done had revived her more fully. With a rush of despair, Hermione remembered what she'd been thinking about Ron only moments ago. Her longing for him increased tenfold.

"Hermione? Are you all right?" the healer asked.

She looked at the woman a little closer, then realized she knew her. "I don't know, Melody. Everything hurts."

Melody frowned. "I'll get you something for the pain," she said quickly before scuttling out of the room.

"What happened?" Harry asked, his eyes wide with worry.

"I'm not sure…I remember going in the attic…and then I was really dizzy. I must have slipped." She groaned and raised a hand to her forehead. "My head hurts."

Her friends watched her in silence until the healer returned, holding a small vial. Hermione took it from her and gulped it down, wincing at the awful taste. It was ironic, she thought, that of all the wonderful things magic could do, it couldn't make potions taste better. Stupid. And then the potion did its thing, and the unbelievable pain she'd been feeling simply evaporated. She sat up and made herself comfortable against the pillows.

"Better?" Melody asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Ginny asked Melody.

Melody shrugged. "I've run a few simple diagnostic spells, but I don't have enough information." She refocused on Hermione. "Have you been sick at all in the past month or so?"

Hermione nodded. "Just after…after…Ron…" She took a deep breath. "I've had some sort of flu for the past several weeks. I've barely been able to get out of bed."

Melody pursed her lips and tapped her wand against her other hand. "I've got a few other questions, but they're sort of personal. Do you want your friends to step out of the room?"

"No, it's okay. They know everything there is to know already."

"Well…I have my suspicions. Were you…intimate? With your husband before…?"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and understanding. It couldn't be true. That was the absolute last thing she needed right now. Please let it be a false alarm. "Yes," she finally whispered.

"And did you use protection?"

She tried to think back. The two weeks that they'd been together before he died had been full of stolen moments of passion. There were so many…and she couldn't recall using protection once. She shook her head.

"Oh, Godric…" Ginny murmured, concern etched on her face. She grabbed one of her hands. "Hermione."

Melody bit her lip nervously. "I'll just check, then." She waved her wand in a simple loop. A soft yellow light surrounded Hermione; concentrated around her stomach, the color had turned blue.

Hermione didn't need Melody to tell her what it meant. She knew. Tears welled up in her eyes. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, then buried her face in the space she had created. She began sobbing.

"What? I don't understand," Harry said.

"I'll just…go…" Melody muttered and left the room.

"Ginny, what is it?" Harry asked again.

Ginny sighed. "'Mione's pregnant."

Another loud sob erupted from Hermione's throat. She was already overwhelmed at the thought of raising Rose without Ron by her side. How was she supposed to go through another pregnancy and raise a son without his father? She didn't want to do it without Ron. It wasn't fair.

"Hermione, what do you want to do?" Ginny asked softly, stroking her hair. "What can I do to help?"

She shook her head and continued to cry.

"Do you…not want the baby?" Harry asked cautiously. "I mean there are ways to handle this sort of situation…"

Hermione gasped at what her friend was implying. "Godric, Harry!" she shouted, lifting her head up and glaring at him. "How could you even suggest such a thing?"

Harry sighed. "I'm really confused."

"Me too," she murmured. "I won't abort this baby, if that's what you're asking. It's not that I don't want him. I wanted to eventually have another child…this is just not how I expected it to happen. I don't regret that I'm pregnant, either. I just wish Ron…" She choked on another sob as realization dawned in Harry's eyes.

"Merlin, I'm so stupid," he breathed. "Of course you don't want to do this without him."

Hermione turned watery eyes on Ginny. "What do I do?"

"I'm assuming that you won't give this baby up for adoption either," Ginny started. Hermione shook her head vehemently. "Well, then Harry and I will be here to support you through everything. If you want to, you can come live at the manor with us. Or maybe I could come to Hogwarts with you if you still want to go work there."

"I think I should still go," Hermione said slowly. "I still need that for myself. But I don't want you to think you have to follow me around, either. I'll have friends there, too." She paused before adding, "I mean, I do want you to come see me as often as you can, especially once…" She placed her free hand on her stomach tenderly.

"Whatever you need, 'Mione. Anything." Ginny clutched her hand tighter.

"Ron wanted to have a son," she whispered, a stray tear sliding down her cheek. "Wanted to name him Hugo."

"Then do it, 'Mione," Harry said lowly.

She nodded. "I will," she said with conviction. "For Ron."

Ginny pulled her into a hug, and Harry moved in to join them. Fresh tears began streaming from Hermione's eyes, and she bit back another sob.

"I miss him so much," she cried into Harry's shoulder. "I want him back."

She could feel Ginny shuddering as she tried to hold back her own tears. "Me too," she whispered.

"It'll be okay, guys. We'll figure it out," Harry mumbled.

When he pulled away from the hug and turned around, Hermione pretended not to notice as he hastily wiped tears from his own face. She knew she'd figure things out, she just didn't know if she wanted to without Ron. It was going to be incredibly hard, that much she did know. So where did she start?

* * *

 _27 October 2006, Hogwarts_

* * *

" _What_?" Draco burst out, eyes wide.

Harry nodded solemnly. "She's pregnant."

"Sweet Salazar," he muttered. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know. Maybe. She's trying to put on a brave face, but I know it's killing her inside. She seems so lost." Harry's shoulders drooped in defeat. "I don't know how to help her. I mean, I'm grieving, too. Ron was my closest friend, my brother. I'm trying to be strong, you know? It's too hard."

"Look, Potter, the last thing that she needs is for you to fall apart on her. She's done enough of that already on her own." Draco folded his arms thoughtfully. "I'm not saying you shouldn't mourn. Just don't do it in front of her. If anyone needs to wear a brave face, it's you. She needs you to be the strong one right now, the one with the answers."

"I know," Harry whispered. "I guess that's why I'm here, talking to you."

Draco frowned. "I'm not sure how I feel, being the one you came to in this situation."

"Nothing to be done about it," Harry chuckled humorlessly. "There's not really anyone else for me to talk to about it that won't go blabbing back to Hermione. Normally, I would talk to Ron about something like this, but…"

"I understand."

"She's still going to come here to work, you know," Harry said after a moment.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Maybe it's for the best."

"I think so. She still needs to be around friends, and definitely out of that house. It's just…"

When he didn't continue, Draco rolled his eyes. "What, Potter? It's just what?"

"I don't know if I can ask anyone else here to keep an eye on her for me."

Ah. "So, what? You're asking me?" Draco didn't like where this was headed. While he wanted to be a good friend, he wasn't sure he could keep himself in check with the way he felt about Hermione. He wasn't used to this kind of situation.

"Well, yeah. Ginny and I'll come around, obviously, but we won't be here every day. I know you've got your own kid to worry about, I just thought…"

Draco hesitated before responding, "Yeah, I'll do what I can."

Harry smiled sadly. "Thanks."

"I don't know how much it'll be or how well I'll do it," he warned.

"That's okay. Oh, did I mention she'll be arriving tomorrow?"

Draco's eyes widened almost comically. "Er, no. You didn't."

"Oh, well…she is."

He rolled his eyes and sneered at Harry. "Thanks for that."

"Sorry." Harry at least had the decency to look repentant.

"Listen, I should probably make sure McGonagall has everything ready to go for Hermione," Draco said in a vague tone.

At that, Harry jumped to his feet excitedly. "That reminds me! I've brought most of her things with me already. She asked me to drop them off." He pulled a brown _thing_ the size of a ring box from his pocket and held it out.

Draco took it, one eyebrow raised in confusion. "She doesn't have much, does she?"

Harry chuckled. "It's all been shrunk down."

"Ah."

"So, I'll be going then. Thanks for your help, really. It means a lot." With that, Harry shook his free hand and departed.

Draco sighed and shook his head. Salazar, his life was complicated—far more complicated than he'd imagined it would be when he'd been disowned. And he was almost ridiculously busy these days. He still had lessons to plan and papers to grade, in addition to caring for Scorpius, and he'd basically just volunteered himself to unpack all of Hermione's things. Wonderful.

"Come on, Scorp. We've got things to do," he called out to his son.

Scorpius, now just over a year old, shakily pushed himself to his feet and toddled over to his father. In each fist he still clutched a Quidditch figurine. "Wha' Dada?"

Draco grinned. "We've got a new friend coming to Hogwarts, and we're going to help set up her apartment here." Scorpius didn't reply, so Draco scooped him up. "Ready?"

The little boy nodded serenely, which made Draco chuckle. Together they left the dungeon and climbed the many stairs to where Professor McGonagall's office was. He muttered the password and rolled his eyes as the gargoyle took its time stepping aside to reveal the spiral staircase. When he finally managed to get to the headmistress's office, the door was standing open. Professor McGonagall was facing the portrait of Dumbledore right behind the desk, her hands on her hips.

"Honestly, Albus! How could you have kept this from me? Do you realize how many lives could have been saved if you had just—"

"Minerva, you have a guest," Dumbledore interrupted. "I suggest we finish this conversation later."

Professor McGonagall spun on her heel to face Draco, a look of shock on her face. "Draco!"

"Sorry to interrupt," Draco said cautiously. "I can come back."

Professor McGonagall waved a hand in the air almost hysterically. "Nonsense. What can I do for you?"

Draco shifted Scorpius from one arm to the other, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, er, Potter dropped off some stuff for Hermione and asked me to put it in her apartment…I was wondering if it was ready yet?"

"Yes, actually, it is. Just finished it yesterday, as a matter of fact. It's attached to the Transfiguration classroom, on the North side. There's no password or lock as of yet."

"Thanks." Draco glanced one more time at Dumbledore before hurrying away.

That was certainly a strange conversation he'd stumbled into earlier. What had Dumbledore kept secret that had gotten people killed? Was it related to the recent attacks, or did it refer to the Second Wizarding War? That spawned another thought. Were they now in the midst of the Third Wizarding War? Draco hoped not. Living through one war was bad enough. Nobody needed to live through two.

Just a few short minutes later, he arrived in the Transfiguration corridor. There was a new door to the left of the classroom entrance, and he twisted the knob. The door swung open silently and as he stepped into the room, torches along every wall lit up, bathing the room in a welcoming, yet dim, light. Aside from that, nothing else about the room was very cheery. It was completely barren of any personal effects.

Draco frowned. Surely Professor McGonagall could have done better than this? There was nothing to do about it now, he mused, except begin unpacking Hermione's things.

"Don't get into any trouble," he told Scorpius as he set him down.

Scorpius walked to the nearest corner and plopped down, content to continue playing with his Quidditch figurines. "Play, Dada."

"Yes, I can see that."

He smiled, watching his son. Scorpius took the figurine in his left hand and bopped the other one on the head with it. Then he reciprocated the action with the figurine in his right hand. Whatever game he was playing made him giggle. Draco's smirk widened. With an amused shake of his head, he got to work.

" _Globus Lux._ " His muttered incantation conjured a spherical light that moved to hover in the center of the ceiling. The room instantly became brighter, erasing the lingering shadows in the corners.

First things first: Draco enlarged the brown box that Harry had given him. It was actually quite sizable, nearly the width of a table in the Potions classroom and standing as high as his knees. With a wave of his wand, everything in the box floated out and settled on the floor in a neat row. Draco groaned loudly. There was a lot of stuff, and it had all been shrunk, too.

He vanished the now-empty box, then set to work organizing the miniscule items on the floor. He placed all the furniture in a cluster on his left. That actually left very few things to sort. The rest was comprised mostly of clothing. He laughed loudly when he picked up a small sack and heard books toppling around inside. Typical Hermione, hoarding more books than could fit into one box.

Draco took his time placing everything. Just like in his apartment, there were two doors along the left wall, one room for each occupant. The right wall held a kitchenette and a door that presumably led to the en suite bathroom. Directly across from the door was a—in Draco's opinion—bland fireplace. He determined that he would spruce it up before he left. It was easy to figure which pieces of furniture belonged in each space, but he was confused when he realized Hermione didn't have a bed for herself. That was…odd. Before addressing that oversight, he finished setting everything else up.

Rose's room held a crib, changing table, wardrobe, and rocking chair, all painted white with light pink trim. It looked terrible in the room with only grey stone walls for decoration. Draco wasn't much of an interior designer, but he thought a sunshine-yellow would look good on the walls. He hoped Hermione agreed. He conjured a rug to place on the floor, and was pleasantly surprised when it worked; it was the same color white as the furniture around the edges, and the center was adorned with light pink roses. Once he put all of Rose's clothes into the wardrobe, he left the room, satisfied with his work.

Hermione's room was another story entirely. There was barely anything there, just a wardrobe and two old school trunks. Draco thought maybe it reflected her mental state, just how little she'd brought for herself. Maybe she was just as desolate and empty as this room. He frowned at that thought, not pleased with it at all. What kind of friend would he be if he left it that way? After thinking for several minutes, an idea struck him. He grinned and got to work. The room was going to positively scream _Hermione_ when he was finished.


	11. Startling Revelations

A/N: Ugh. This chapter is not one of my favorites, I'll be honest. It took me a while to pound it out. Hopefully you're all not disappointed in me. :( Filler isn't the best. At any rate, don't ditch my story if you hate this chapter, cause I've got more awesome action coming up, and the reveal of the mystery that's been plaguing our favorite heroes will show up around chapter fourteen. That's pretty soon, guys! :D

* * *

Chapter Ten: Startling Revelations

 _28 October 2006, Hogwarts_

* * *

Hermione shifted the strap on her bag so it rested higher on her shoulder. She held Rose closer to her hip with her left arm, trying to hide her anxiety at reentering the school. She was standing outside of the huge oak doors that led into the entrance hall. For some reason, it was a bit daunting. Maybe it was because this would be her first time back at Hogwarts without Ron.

With a sigh, she finally pushed open the doors and walked inside. Because it was a Saturday, most of the students were off studying or goofing around, which meant the corridors were nearly empty. Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief that she wouldn't be stared at too much as she reacquainted herself with the castle.

She took a step towards the marble staircase just in time to see Professor McGonagall striding from the Great Hall. The headmistress smiled warmly at her, and Hermione attempted to conjure a smile of her own. It fell a little flat.

"Hermione, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Professor. It's good to see you." She readjusted her hold on Rose again.

"Your apartment is this way, in the Transfiguration corridor," Professor McGonagall said, waving a hand toward the hallway opposite the marble staircase.

Hermione internally sighed in relief. The ground floor. She couldn't imagine how things would go later in her pregnancy if she'd had to climb up to, say, the seventh floor every day.

"Do you know if Harry brought my things by?"

Professor McGonagall nodded crisply. "He did, indeed. Draco delivered the box to your room yesterday."

Hermione inclined her head. She guessed it made sense that Draco would have done so. Perhaps Harry had stopped by for a chat and had lost track of time. She wondered if, somehow, Draco had become Harry's new confidant. Ron used to fill that position, but it was obvious he could no longer do so.

"Well, I'll let you get settled," Professor McGonagall said as they stopped outside a plain wooden door. "You just need to choose how to lock the door when you're away."

"Thank you again, Professor. This means a lot to me."

"Oh, one more thing: will you be able to start teaching on Monday?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I suppose…but I'd like to try to get the library in order first. I don't know if I can do that before Monday, though."

"Would it help to pick some teachers' assistants to aid you in that task? Perhaps you would be able to finish if you did." Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in thought.

"Yeah, that actually would help quite a bit. Do you have any students in mind for the job?"

"Several. Would you like me to send them to the Transfiguration classroom later today? After dinner?"

Hermione nodded. "That sounds good to me. It will give me time to get settled here."

"Wonderful. I'll check in with you then."

She watched as Professor McGonagall walked down the hallway, her shoes clacking on the stone floor. Then she turned to the door and pushed it open. Immediately, a ball of light came to life in the center of the room. Hermione gasped as she looked around. She hadn't expected anyone to set up her things, and yet her furniture was placed and the room decorated. Had Draco done all of this?

She set Rose on the floor and moved further into the room to see what else had been done. While the walls had been painted soft, happy colors, and the floors padded with soft rugs, it still lacked personal touches. Hermione had brought those things with her, however. They were in her bag. She carefully set out the pictures of her family, taking extra time with the ones featuring Ron. Several of his photos took center stage on the mantle over the fireplace. She wanted the rest in her room.

Hermione turned to the left wall, where two doors stood closed, waiting. She opened the one on the right, only to discover Rose's room. The care and attention that had been put into the setup of the room brought tears to her eyes. On so many levels, she had recognized that Draco was a different, much better person now. But this consideration hinted at something more, something deeper than she had anticipated. She just couldn't put her finger on what it was.

Obviously, the room on the left was hers, so she left Rose's in order to enter her own. When she pushed open the door, she really did begin to cry. The room had been expanded, as it was closer to the size of the Hogwarts library than a simple bedroom. And like the Hogwarts library, there were bookshelves everywhere. All of her books from Grimmauld Place had been organized and the shelves labeled.

Hermione wandered deeper into the vast space, wondering what else had been done. When she reached the back wall, her jaw dropped in astonishment. An elegant king-sized four-poster bed rested in one corner. A matching mahogany bedside table was next to it. The bedroom was one she'd only ever fantasized about having.

Her hand slipped to rest on her stomach when she noticed the bassinet against the wall opposite her bed. The wood matched that of everything else in the room, and the bedding was baby blue. Draco knew she was pregnant, and had made accommodations. She really needed to rethink everything she believed about that man. He had gone to such great lengths to make this place feel like home. Hermione honestly didn't know a single other person that would go to this amount of trouble for her, at least not in this particular circumstance. Granted, it was a situation she'd never dreamed she'd be in, but the point remained.

Hermione decided she needed to know what Draco was thinking when he'd set up her apartment. She plucked Rose from where she was playing on the floor, took a pinch of floo powder, and reemerged at Harry's house.

"Harry!" she called out.

Ginny came into the room instead. "Hermione? I thought you were supposed to be settling in at Hogwarts today."

"I am. But right now I need to talk to Harry."

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked as he rounded the corner and entered the room.

She nodded. "I think so, but something weird is going on."

Harry looked alarmed and hurried over to sit on the couch. He patted the cushion beside him, and Hermione sat down. Without a word, Ginny took Rose and left the room.

"What is it?" Harry asked softly.

"Well, all of my things were set up when I got to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall said that you left my things with Draco. Did you ask him to unpack for me?"

"No." Harry began picking at his cuticles, which was something he only did if he was feeling guilty about something.

Hermione was instantly suspicious. "Really? It's very odd that Draco would go to so much trouble, don't you think?" She tried to keep her tone light and not give away her train of thought.

"Sure, I guess." Harry shrugged.

"I'm a bit worried," she tried to hint. "I think he might be trying to impress me or something."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Was he in your apartment when you showed up?"

"No, but—"

"Then how do you even know it was him that unpacked your things?" Harry interrupted. "It could have been anyone."

Hermione frowned and sat back against the couch, thinking. She supposed it could have been someone else. Neville, maybe, or Tonks and Teddy. But something was tickling the back of her brain, and she knew it held the answer to her dilemma. She just couldn't get a firm grip on the thought.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I bothered you over nothing."

Harry shrugged. "It's always good to see you, 'Mione. You know that."

She smiled. "I need to work on getting the library organized before Monday. Want to help?"

He grimaced. "Sure."

Hermione laughed. "So enthusiastic."

"Sorry. You know how I am."

"Yes, I do. I really could use the help, though, if you're willing." She waited in a hopeful silence.

"I know I promised I'd help you with anything, but do I really have to?"

She smirked at him. "Yes."

Harry hung his head. "I had a feeling you'd say that."

* * *

 _5 November 2006, Hogwarts_

* * *

Hermione found herself nearly whistling as she ambled around the library, reshelving books. Her first week teaching had been a resounding success. After a lot of thinking and discussing with her friends, she had made the difficult decision to have her students call her Professor Granger. It had come down to the fact that it would just hurt too much to hear them call her "Weasley" everyday. So far, she had been able to keep the depression at bay with this simple change.

Professor McGonagall had been right about the students she'd recommended for teachers' assistants in the library. None of them were Prefects, nor the Head Boy or Girl, but they had all been runners-up for the positions. This meant that they were responsible and kind students; well, most of them. She had selected two students from the group that she felt were best equipped for the job at hand.

Remy Turner, a seventh year Slytherin, was the boy she turned to the most. He was an excellent scholar, and had actually taken most of his NEWTs last year. Thus, he had a lot of free periods during the day. He would be tending to the library every Monday and Wednesday from nine in the morning to one in the afternoon. After that, Hermione herself took over.

Tuesdays and Thursdays she would spend more time in the library than in the classroom, since she only had two classes to teach in the morning. During the hours she was unavailable, Jenny Wright of Ravenclaw would take over. She was a sixth year, and she was almost reverent in her respect for Hermione. It was endearing, if not a tad bit annoying on occasion.

From Friday through Sunday, Hermione wanted to spend all day in the library, with Rose in tow. She had no classes to teach on Fridays, and decided to spend as much time with her daughter as possible. It was only during busy weekends, usually just before big exams she figured, that she would leave Rose with Tonks during the day. Hermione rather liked the idea of helping the students with their work if they needed it. She wanted to act not only as a teacher, but as a tutor, mentor, and friend if possible. Merlin knew she'd needed a good confidant many times in her years at Hogwarts.

"Professor Granger?"

Hermione turned to see who had spoken to her. "Hello, Remy. What can I do for you?"

"Are you going to be here for very long?" he asked, somewhat nervously.

"I plan to be here all day. After lunch, I'm going to bring Rose back with me." She frowned. "Why? Is everything okay?"

Remy shrugged. "I just wanted to get some advice."

"Of course. Let me just put these last few books away." She waved the books she held in her hand. "We can talk in my office, if you'd like."

Remy nodded. "Thanks." He wandered to the back of the library, where her office was tucked into a corner.

Hermione quickly put the books back, then went to meet Remy. She didn't close or lock the door—just so other students would know she was available—but she did cast a Silencing Charm to keep anyone from overhearing what Remy had to say.

"So, what's on your mind?" she asked kindly.

Remy shrugged again. "It's stupid, really."

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing is stupid if it's bothering you enough to ask for advice or help. Your troubles are not insignificant."

He smiled a little at her nearly vehement statement. "It's about a girl, though."

"Still," she insisted.

"She's in a different house," Remy started.

"Ah. That probably accounts for most of the problem, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. She's not in Gryffindor, so it's not a rivalry issue much. It's just that most of Slytherin House still prefers to keep to themselves. They've all insisted on seclusion since I started school."

Hermione nodded. "It was the same way when I was in school. It hasn't been very long since the war ended. House rivalries and prejudices aren't going to disappear overnight. It will take years. It might not be until _your_ children attend that the situation is even somewhat remedied."

Remy frowned. "So, what? I stop liking her to please my house?" He didn't look convinced.

"On the contrary," she corrected with a smile, "I think that if she's willing to give it a shot, you should go for it. You can help lead the way to inter-house unity."

He appeared to consider her words for a moment. "But what if everyone hates us?"

"That's a bit of a risk, yes," Hermione amended. "But honestly, you are smart and kind enough that I seriously doubt anyone will stay mad at you for long. And in the unlikely possibility that they _do_ , I will always be here for you."

"Thanks," Remy said softly. "I just don't know if I should try. I'm not brave, not like you."

At that, Hermione had to laugh. "Oh, Remy. I'm nothing special, believe me. After my husband died, I spent two months hiding in my house. Honestly, it's not about being unafraid in the moment that counts. That's not what makes you brave. It's your willingness to face the situation and continue living that means something."

"So you're saying that anyone can be brave?"

She nodded. "Being brave doesn't mean you're not afraid. My friend Harry taught me that, actually. He often asked me why he was put in Gryffindor when he was so scared of fighting Voldemort and losing his loved ones."

"You'll have to tell me more about him sometime," Remy said.

"Absolutely."

He stood up. "I think I'm going to go talk to her. Thanks again."

As he turned to leave, Hermione called out, "Remy, who is she?"

His face blazed crimson. "It's Jenny."

"She'd be a fool to turn you away."

Remy left her office with a wide smile and a confident stride in his step. Hermione watched him go, smiling herself. She barely knew this boy, and yet he felt comfortable talking to her already. It gave her a great sense of pride, knowing she had already had had such a positive impact at Hogwarts.

"That was really nice, what you said to Remy." A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Hermione started. It was Draco. "How do you know what I said? I put up a Silencing Charm."

Draco shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know exactly what you said. I just noticed him leaving the library in a very good mood. He seemed really down at breakfast. I just figured you had said something to him."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "That's rubbish, Draco. I think you've been loitering outside my office for a while. Now tell me how you heard our conversation." Her voice was polite, but clearly left no room for further argument or lies.

"Fine," Draco sighed. "I _did_ notice that Remy wasn't his usual self at breakfast. I was concerned, so I followed him here. I was about to come into your office when you cast the Silencing Charm. It must have included me, so I eavesdropped."

"Well."

"I won't apologize for it; I'm glad I did. I'm his Head of House, and it's my job to make sure he's taken care of." Draco folded his arms defiantly, as if expecting her to argue with his reasoning.

Instead, Hermione smiled. "It's fine. I'm not upset you overheard us."

He nodded. "So, did you mean what you told Remy about inter-house unity?"

"Of course I did," she replied. "It would have been terrible advice to tell him otherwise."

He hummed in soft agreement.

Hermione shifted in her chair uncomfortably as Draco stared at her. Finally, just to break the silence, she asked, "Were you the one that unpacked all of my things last week?"

After a long pause, he nodded slowly.

"Why?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "I guess I wanted to do something nice for you."

This just caused Hermione to frown deeper. "But _why_ did you want to do something nice for me? I don't understand."

Draco sighed, clearly frustrated. "Can't a bloke just be nice without everyone questioning it?"

"Well, yes," Hermione said slowly, "but I've never known you to be the type to do so."

"Look, it's…it's not something we need to discuss. Let's just call it 'me doing a favor for a friend' and move on."

Something was definitely weird about his response. " _Honestly_ ," she sighed. "I don't know why you're being so evasive! It's not like you hid a Dark curse in my belongings!"

Draco chuckled ruefully. "No, I didn't, but my reasons are my own, Hermione. You really don't need to know what they are. Trust me, right now is not the time for you to know."

She didn't like it, but she nodded. "All right. But one of these days, I'm going to ask you again, and I expect you to be honest with me."

He shook his head in amusement. "So long as that day isn't for another year or so."

With that, he turned and left the library, leaving Hermione more bewildered than ever. She pondered his odd behavior, the way he'd interacted with her since they became reacquainted. And finally that thought that had been niggling the back of her brain for the last week clicked into place. The memory of their kiss after decorating for the Annual Victory Celebration flooded her senses. She was certain in that moment that she knew what Draco's reasons were. She was simultaneously intrigued and wary.

Draco Malfoy, a man she'd known for fifteen years, had feelings for her. Hermione wanted to know what had been the catalyst for this situation. She wanted to know _why_. And yet, she didn't want to welcome any advances. She liked Draco well enough, but she didn't love him. She was still mourning her husband, and it felt very wrong to even consider having feelings for another man so soon.

Oh, Godric, what was she going to do?


	12. Nefarious Plots

A/N: Gawl, I'm sorry this is so late. It's lame filler for now, and very short. Please don't hate me. This last week flew by without even telling me it was doing so, and I managed to get this much done for you. Forgive me! I will try much harder to get you a nice long (and engaging) chapter next week. Also, forgive any typos or mistakes. If you find something horrific, send me a PM. Otherwise, I'll look at it later and make any necessary edits.

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Nefarious Plots

 _25 December 2006, Hogwarts_

* * *

It turned out that having Hermione at Hogwarts was unhealthy for Draco's obsession. Whenever he wasn't teaching or grading papers or spending time with Scorpius, he was watching her. He would watch as she taught her classes, as she helped students in the library, even when she ate meals. Draco creeped himself out by acting so voyeuristic, but he couldn't help it in so many ways. He kept telling himself that he was only doing what Harry had asked, but he knew better. He was acting like a no-good pervert.

Draco had opted to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, for obvious reasons. He was befuddled that Hermione chose to stay, though. She had other family and friends she could visit, so why did she want to stay holed up in a drafty old castle? It didn't do for him to dwell on this, though. It only drove him mad to think about her more than he already did. In fact, he had come to the conclusion that he needed someone to wipe his memory so he could go back to being somewhat normal.

As he sat poking at his oatmeal that morning, he rested his chin on his fist in a depressed sort of way. He turned and gave Scorpius a mouthful, which was promptly spat back in his face. Draco wiped the food away, and frowned at his son.

"Do you plan on eating anything for breakfast today?" he asked wryly.

Scorpius looked around at the food in front of him. Then he pointed to a dish. "Want."

Draco looked to where he was pointing. Of course Scorp would want the most sugary dish available. "You can have one." He put a small cinnamon bun on a plate in front of Scorpius, who immediately stuck his chubby hands into the frosting and began tearing into the pastry.

Draco shook his head. Sometimes it was almost scary how much Scorpius emulated his father. As Draco pondered some more over his impossible situation, the morning owl post arrived. A familiar owl landed in front of him, hoisting a rather hefty package. She held a letter in her beak. Draco removed the owl's burdens, then gave her a piece of toast. She butted her head against his hand affectionately before taking off again.

The owl belonged to Narcissa, which meant that the large package was likely an extravagant gift for Scorp. Draco set the package on the floor by his feet—he'd let Scorp open it after he'd finished eating and was cleaned up—and opened the letter. It wasn't very long, which was somewhat unusual for his mother. His heart constricted when he saw the second sentence she'd written. What could be so wrong that his mother wouldn't even bother with trivial updates before getting to the important things?

 _Draco,_

 _The package is for Scorp, but you probably already knew that._

 _Something is wrong._ _I overheard your father on a floo call yesterday. I don't know who he was talking to, but I very much fear he may have known about what was planned for the Victory Celebration in August, because it sounded like they were discussing another attack. I'm worried he was helping to plan it._

 _I heard your father mention something would be happening at Hogwarts today. You need to tell Minerva right away. I'll do what I can from here and try to keep you both informed, but it may not be much._

 _Stay safe._

 _Mother_

For a moment, Draco just stared at the letter. He didn't want to believe it, and yet the information fit. Lucius had never really wanted to switch sides in the last war. He only did it to keep himself out of Azkaban. He was nothing if not self-preserving. Draco turned to his right side.

"Longbottom, will you watch Scorp for a moment?"

Neville looked over, somewhat surprised, but nodded. "Everything all right?"

"I don't know." He didn't wait for a reply before he was on his feet and walking over to Professor McGonagall.

"Draco, is something wrong?" the headmistress asked when she saw the look on his face.

"Quite possibly," he answered, handing her the letter.

Professor McGonagall quickly scanned the contents, her lips pursed. "This isn't good news. We should send the students back to their dormitories immediately."

Draco scanned the Great Hall. "There are so few of them here. What if we have all of them go to the Slytherin common room? It's secluded and easily protected."

"That's a good idea. I'll send Nymphadora with them so she can keep an eye on the little ones."

"What about the rest of the teachers?"

Professor McGonagall frowned. "If there really is to be an attack today, we need every available adult ready to protect the school and the students."

Draco nodded. He almost asked after Hermione's well-being, but he knew the fiery witch well enough to know she would resent him if he kept her from a potential fight because of her pregnancy. She wanted revenge for her husband's death, that much he knew.

"How do we do this without causing a panic?" he asked instead.

"I'm afraid there may not be a way to prevent it, but if we maintain decorum, the students will find some comfort from us."

"I'll start telling the other professors."

Draco walked quickly back to his seat at the table and leaned over to whisper in Neville's ear. "My mother informed me that an attack on Hogwarts is planned for today. McGonagall needs every available teacher to fight. Will you pass on the message?"

Neville looked up, eyes wide, and nodded. "Who is attacking?"

"Death Eaters, I assume."

Neville gulped.

Draco gave him a brisk nod and picked up Scorpius before going to the opposite end of the head table to approach Hermione. He sat down in the empty chair on her left before she could so much as blink.

"Draco?"

"There's going to be an attack on the school."

A fierce snarl twisted her features. "Those bastards."

"McGonagall is going to send the students to the Slytherin common room. Tonks is going with them, and she'll take our kids with her if you want."

Hermione nodded. "Good." She stood up and pulled Rose from the highchair beside her. "Where's Tonks?"

Draco glanced around the Great Hall. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen her."

"Doesn't matter. We'll wait for McGonagall to make the announcement. She'll have turned up by then."

He nodded. "It's likely."

He waited beside Hermione, both of them continuing to feed their children. It was nearly half an hour before Professor McGonagall approached the podium. Everyone in the hall quieted almost immediately. Draco watched her intently.

"I apologize for interrupting your morning meal, everyone," she started. "I'm afraid I've received some distressing news. Children, do not panic, for we will take care of you. If you will all please follow Mrs. Lupin to the Slytherin common room, she will keep watch over you while the rest of the professors and I take care of the situation at hand."

Draco nodded approvingly at her words. She had relayed the seriousness of the situation without giving away enough details to cause panic. He watched with a bit of awe as each of the fifty or so students stood up from their seats and began filing out of the Great Hall without a word.

"Back when we were here, we never would have followed directions so quietly," Hermione whispered in his ear.

Draco grinned at her and shook his head. "Absolutely not," he replied in a hushed tone.

Hermione fought back a laugh as the remaining students left the hall. "We should get Rose and Scorp to the dungeons as well."

He nodded. "Tonks is still in the entrance hall."

"Okay."

He led the way to where Tonks stood watching as the students, led by the remaining Slytherins, made their way down the stairs. Tonks looked over at them as they approached.

"Wotcher, 'Mione. Draco."

"Dora."

"Are you going to come with me?" Tonks asked Hermione.

For the briefest moment, she glowered at her friend. "No, I won't."

Tonks let her gaze drift towards Hermione's stomach. "Are you sure?"

Her glare intensified. "Do you really want to push that question?"

Tonks grinned. "'Course not." She turned and fixed Draco with a stern glare. "You keep an eye on her, you hear? I will hold you personally responsible should she come to any harm."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Er…"

Hermione's glare returned. "Draco is not responsible for my well-being!"

"Someone's got to watch your back," Tonks reasoned. "You tend to stop watching it yourself in the heat of battle."

"Dora, stop," Draco interrupted. "Quit harping. Hermione can take care of herself."

Hermione nodded briskly, glared once more at Tonks, thrust Rose into her arms, then stomped away.

Draco handed Scorpius to Tonks as well, then leaned in and muttered, "Don't worry. I'm not about to let anything happen to her."

Tonks winked at him. "Good luck, then."

"And to you." He joined Hermione across the entrance hall with several other professors.

She gave him a wry smile. "Thanks for saying that. But I overheard you assuring her you'd do it anyway."

Draco grimaced. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I understand." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "So, do you think there'll really be an attack?"

He nodded.

"I'm not convinced. Is the information even credible?"

"It's likely," Draco murmured. "It came from my mother. She overheard Lucius discussing something over a floo call yesterday."

"Oh."

"I trust my mother, Hermione. She's not at all the woman she appears to be."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"It's definitely a good thing. She's so much better than the façade she portrays." Draco shrugged.

Hermione frowned thoughtfully, and after a moment asked, "What do we do now? Just wait for the Death Eaters to show up again?"

"I've no idea," Draco answered. "McGonagall told me she wants everyone that is able to fight to stand guard, but I haven't heard anything further."

"But why today? Don't Death Eaters want to celebrate Christmas too?" She grinned mockingly.

Draco chuckled. "I wouldn't know."

"In all seriousness, why would they pick the holidays to attack again? They have to know that there won't be very many people here."

"I suppose it's like the attack in August. They're making a statement, not trying to obliterate us." He shook his head. "It is strange though. They made the statement already, right? Everyone knows that Death Eaters are resurfacing. What's the point, then?"

Hermione shook her head. "I want to know _why_ the Death Eaters are coming back. Voldemort is dead, so who else could be commanding them? What are they after?"

"I wish I knew."

The doors to the Great Hall banged open loudly, and Draco spun to face them. Professor McGonagall hurried into the entrance hall, looking thoroughly harassed and disheveled.

"They're here," she said without preamble.

As if on cue, a deafening explosion sounded in the courtyard just meters from where he stood. The front doors shook on their hinges, looking suddenly as fragile as glass. Another explosion rent the air, and the doors were blasted away as if they really were that delicate. Death Eaters streamed through the gaping hole with a victorious shout.

Draco pulled his wand out of his robe pocket and faced the front doors. He was ready.


	13. A Not-So-Merry Christmas

A/N: I finished one of my three classes today! Yay! So hopefully I'll have more time for writing. Fingers crossed. Another short chapter, I'm sorry. I hope you don't mind terribly.

* * *

Chapter Twelve: A Not-So-Merry Christmas

 _25 December 2006, Hogwarts_

* * *

Time slowed to an unbearable crawl. To Hermione, it seemed as if the Death Eaters were trying to wade through molasses. She knew the fight erupting around her was really moving faster than she could track, and yet her mind didn't perceive it that way.

"Hermione, what are you doing?"

She spun around at Draco's shout, and time sped up around her. She shook her head—now it looked as though everyone was running around on fast-forward. What was wrong with her?

Hermione shook her head fiercely and took a deep breath. She had to do this for her kids, for Ron. He deserved vengeance.

Without even looking to see who she aimed at, she cried, " _Bombarda!_ " The man was blasted off his feet and slammed into the wall with a bone-snapping _crunch!_ He slumped limply to the floor. She hoped he broke his neck.

The snow that had been gently falling earlier that morning was now gusting angrily into the entrance hall. It was becoming hard to see. Hermione squinted against the howling storm, looking for another opponent.

Rookwood was the unlucky man that stepped into her path. "How's your husband, Mudblood?" he sneered.

She growled low in her throat. Wordlessly, she sent an Entrail-Expelling Curse at him. He managed to block it—albeit just barely—and fired a curse in return. Light flashed between them as the fight intensified. Hermione lost track of how many spells she had shot his direction. She began to grow desperate in her attempt to take him down, and began casting simple, ridiculous spells instead of offensive ones.

When she caught herself aiming _Alohomora_ his way, she rolled her eyes and finally used the curse she'd hated for nearly a decade. " _Sectumsempra!_ " Blood spurted from Rookwood's chest. He fell to the floor, hard, and cracked his head against the stone. Blood began pooling around him, and before Hermione could regret her decision, she darted off in search of a new opponent.

Hermione watched Draco shoot a particularly strong fireball at a Death Eater she didn't recognize. After the smoke had cleared, she wouldn't have recognized him anyway. He was nothing more than a heap of charred bones.

She joined Neville in a fight against Theo Nott's dad. For a minor Death Eater, the man was absurdly powerful. Neville, who had drastically improved in his magical abilities since their Dumbledore's Army days, was having a hard time fending him off.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Hermione was too slow to conjure a Shield Charm. Neville took the opportunity to shove her hard to her right, then dove to his left. Neither of them was harmed. Still, it left her shaken and distracted. From her place on the floor, she halfheartedly aimed a Full-Body Bind at Nott. He easily deflected it. This was not going well.

She got back to her feet and shifted into a proper dueling stance. Neville, too, was back on his feet, and they began throwing spells at Nott in tandem. Hermione barely had to look at Neville for him to understand what she intended. In a similar fashion, she knew what Neville was about to do seconds before he did it. When had they become so in sync?

She was so busy in her systematic duel that she didn't notice someone across the hall taking aim at her.

"Hermione, look out!" Draco shouted.

"What?" she murmured.

Turning, she saw Draco sprinting towards her. Time slowed once more. In her peripheral vision, a sickly purple light was heading straight for her. It hit her square in the chest just seconds before Draco tackled her to the ground. White-hot pain raced from her heart to her extremities. It felt as if the curse had entered her bloodstream.

Draco laid on top of her still, panting and trying to get her to focus on him. She was pretty sure he was saying something, but she couldn't understand the words. Hermione's vision swam in and out of focus, and with a bright burst of that same purple light, she knew no more.

* * *

 _25 December 2006, Hogwarts_

* * *

Draco stared in horror as Thorfinn Rowle took aim at Hermione. She was on the other side of the hall from him, and he could barely see her through the fiercely swirling snow. Draco spun around and began racing toward her. He knew he wouldn't make it in time.

"Hermione, look out!" he screamed for all he was worth.

He saw her mouth move, then felt his heart stop as the purple light of the spell hit her in the chest. Draco took a flying leap, still hoping that he could get her out of harm's way, and tackled her. He cushioned her head with his arm as they fell.

Hermione's eyes were still open, but glazed over and unseeing. Draco panicked, feeling her too-shallow breaths beneath him.

"Hermione, stay with me," he murmured. "Come on, stay awake. You're okay."

Her eyes fluttered shut. Draco's heart stopped. He held perfectly still, trying to determine if she was still breathing. She was, but just barely. He had to get her out of there.

Luckily, Neville had managed to subdue Nott, and Rowle had been distracted by Lupin. Glancing around the hall, Draco realized that nobody was paying them any attention. Perhaps it was because they were on the floor, and the Death Eaters assumed they were both unconscious or dead. That might work to his advantage.

Draco slowly rolled off of Hermione. He wordlessly cast a Levitation Spell on her, and kept her hovering barely above the floor. He crawled toward the Great Hall inch by agonizing inch. Somehow they managed to make it into the huge room undetected. He slid them to the right of the doors so they were completely out of sight, then carefully lowered Hermione back to the floor.

He stood up, scooped her into his arms, then ran the length of the Great Hall and out the side exit behind the Head Table. From there, he turned down the left corridor. Down the hall, behind a tapestry and down a flight of stairs, then up another flight, and he finally emerged from behind an ancient suit of armor. He was steps away from Hermione's apartment.

He realized he didn't know how to get inside. She'd likely added a password or spell (perhaps both) to keep the space private. With a frustrated sigh, Draco turned away from the door and sprinted to the dungeons and to the Slytherin common room. Being the head of house, he was privy to the password, and therefore was able to slip inside without incident.

"Hermione!" Tonks cried out when she saw who had come in.

"She got hit with something," Draco said as he panted for breath. "I don't know what it was."

"Bring her this way." Tonks walked down a short hallway and opened a door that led to another, smaller, common room. Draco recognized it as the rarely-used apartment set aside for the Head Boy or Girl, should one be chosen from Slytherin.

He appreciated the offer of privacy. "I'll take care of her. You go on back and watch the kids."

Tonks pursed her lips in distaste, but did as he asked with a brisk nod.

Draco hurried to one of the two bedrooms and laid Hermione down on the bed. He looked her over. There was no visible injury from the spell, but that wasn't uncommon. Magic often left no physical trace. He knew she wouldn't like it, and it would be incredibly difficult for him to do because of how he felt about her, but he knew that it could ultimately be the difference between her life and death. Draco carefully removed her robe. He had to cast some diagnostic spells, and it was much easier when one didn't have too many layers of clothes on.

Hermione was dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt beneath her robe. Draco frowned as he reexamined her for injuries. She was starting to show. He did the math and figured she was roughly four months into her pregnancy. He felt another flash of panic. Could the curse affect the baby? What if she miscarried? She'd never forgive herself.

Draco began murmuring spells over Hermione's prone form. None of the fourteen spells provided results that were telling enough for him to know what the curse had done. He had one last spell he could try, though, courtesy of the mediwitch that had taught him how to care for Scorpius. He closed his eyes, focused all of his magical energy on a spot over his heart, and whispered, " _Inveniet Magicae_."

The spell was supposed to evoke a golden aura around the target, and yet one did not appear around Hermione.

"Shit."

For what felt like the millionth time that day, Draco began panicking again. The curse was one intended to drain a person's magic. And even though Hermione was Muggle-born, the curse would kill her unless her magic was restored. Draco only knew of one way to do that: to share his own magic with her.

It pained him to do it, and it was a _massive_ violation of personal space, but the best way to transfer magic to another person was through a highly emotional contact. He climbed onto the bed beside her and spent a moment staring at her face. Even though she lay dying before his eyes, she seemed so peaceful.

Draco knew he couldn't delay any further. Harnessing everything he felt for the woman beside him—all-consuming love, bone-deep passion, despair at the impossibility of being with her—he leaned over and kissed her. She didn't respond, of course, but the contact still sent a jolt through him. Draco focused on giving her as much of his magic as possible. He couldn't let Hermione die. He felt _he_ would die if she did.

Draco felt the moment that his magic began entering her body. The sensation made him feel weaker by the second, but he didn't care. All he wanted was for this beautiful woman beside him to live a long, happy life. He gently lifted her head with one hand and threaded his fingers through her hair. He figured this would be the last chance he would ever have to kiss her again, so he basked in the moment.

His despair gave way to desperation. He didn't realize that he had been pouring too much of his magic into the kiss until it was too late. He fell away from Hermione and collapsed on the bed in a dead faint.

* * *

 _1 January 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

Hermione awoke in the Hospital Wing. She was disoriented and dizzy, her vision was still blurry, and her stomach hurt like hell. She pressed a palm against the growing swell of her stomach, silently praying for Hugo's safety. Why was she in the hospital? What had happened? Everything was fuzzy.

She turned her head to the left and was startled to see Draco in the next bed, clearly unconscious. What was _he_ doing here? She groaned. The last thing she remembered was hearing Draco warn her before she was hit with a spell. Then again, she supposed it _would_ be the last thing she remembered, and she felt lucky to be alive.

She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position and began looking around the Hospital Wing. There were two chairs set up to the right of her bed as if someone had been sitting vigil at her side. Aside from that, the vast space was empty. Then the heavy double doors creaked open. She looked to see who was entering the room, and was promptly engulfed in a flurry of red hair.

"Thank Godric you're all right."

Hermione wrapped her arms around Ginny and stroked her hair. "Yeah, I think I am."

Ginny pulled back and looked her over. "How do you feel?"

She grimaced. "I'm okay, considering the circumstances. My stomach really hurts. Is Hugo all right?" She felt a pang of anxiety.

Ginny frowned. "I'm not sure. Padma was more concerned with making sure you lived, to be honest."

"I need to know if he's going to be okay!" Her voice rose an octave in her panic.

"Hermione, breathe," Ginny said soothingly. "I'll find Padma."

She nodded. "Where's Harry?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," Ginny replied as she walked toward the mediwitch's office.

Hermione waited, still feeling quite nervous, for Ginny and Padma to return. While she waited, she examined Draco. He was breathing, and that was a good sign. He didn't appear to be injured, but then why was he unconscious? She hoped he would be all right.

"Hermione, it's so good to see you awake," Padma said as she walked over. "I was really beginning to worry."

"Is my baby okay?" Hermione didn't want to delay the conversation any longer.

Padma took out her wand and waved it over her a few times. She frowned as she received the results. "He's okay, but you need to take it easy for a while. Any further stress could cause a miscarriage."

"So what do I do?"

"It's not so drastic as constant bed rest," Padma said softly, "but you definitely can't participate in any more battles. And you should do everything you can to keep your blood pressure regulated. I can prescribe you a potion to help, and I'll give you a vat of Calming Draught. Those should prevent anything too harmful."

Hermione nodded. "Okay. I think I can handle that." Another flutter of anxiety danced through her chest. "Can I have some of that Calming Draught now?"

"Absolutely." Padma turned to Ginny. "Can you get it from my office?"

Ginny nodded and scurried off again.

Hermione's attention returned to Draco now that she knew her baby would live. "What happened to him?"

Padma sat on one of the chairs at her bedside. "He saved your life."

"What?!"

She nodded. "The curse you were hit with was something I've never seen before. Apparently Draco recognized it, though. It's something intended to strip a person of their magic. It would have killed you."

"So what did he do?" Hermione frowned at Draco's prone form.

"He shared his magic with you." Padma shrugged.

Hermione's eyes widened and she turned to stare at Padma. "But that could have killed _him_!"

She nodded. "I know. He woke up long enough to tell Tonks what had happened, and he's been unconscious ever since."

Something occurred to Hermione then. "Wait, what day is it?"

Padma frowned. "It's January first."

"What?!"

"You've been unconscious for a week."

Hermione closed her eyes tightly. "What happened?"

"I…I don't think I should be the one to tell you that," Padma whispered.

"Why not?" Hermione glared at her.

She bit her lip nervously and opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Ginny's return. Instead, she sighed in relief and excused herself from the room.

"Ginny, tell me what happened!" Hermione cried. "Where's Harry?"

Ginny sighed. "He's fine, don't worry." After a long pause she added, "He's out making funeral arrangements."

Panic ran through Hermione once more. "What?! Who died?"

Her friend gulped nervously. "Professor McGonagall."


	14. The Mystery Begins to Unravel

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger last week (not really sorry). This chapter is a little less intense, just some fun development between Hermione and Draco. Don't worry; we're getting to the heart of the mystery soon. Not in this chapter, but a huge chunk of it is revealed in the next chapter. A bit of a warning for you all, though: I may not get the next chapter up by next Monday. It's a big one, and I don't know how much time I'll have to devote to writing it this week. I will do my very best to have it ready, though. Bear with me!

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: The Mystery Begins to Unravel

 _3 January 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

Hermione slowly trudged up the path to the school. Professor McGonagall's funeral had been short, but had also been attended by close to one hundred people. There were even Muggles that had come to pay their respects. Still, it left Hermione emotionally barren. There had been far too many funerals in the last six months. It was true that there had only been two high-profile casualties thus far, but there were still dozens of people recovering in St. Mungo's from their wounds in varying degrees of seriousness.

She was sad. There was no other way to put it. Of course, it was likely that her emotions were heightened—or, in this case, dulled—because of her pregnancy. And ever since she had woken up, Hermione had been very careful not to do anything to even remotely raise her blood pressure. Fortunately, there hadn't been much to do since it was still the holiday break.

Students were to return on Sunday night, and classes resumed on Monday. Hermione had worried for days that the school would be closed because of the attack, but most of the parents had agreed that Hogwarts was still the safest place for their children to be. She found out that Kingsley and several other highly powerful wizards from the Ministry had come the day after the attack to create stronger wards around the school. Now there was a special protective spell that cancelled out any magic from the edge of Hogsmeade to the gates of the school. The pathway from Hogsmeade Station to Hogwarts was also very specific now, making it so that if someone strayed from the marked boundaries, he wouldn't encounter the school, but simply keep walking along a vast field in the middle of Scotland. Hermione worried about how the students would fare on Hogsmeade weekends, but she didn't even know if they would be restored, for Kingsley had yet to appoint someone to be the new head of the school.

All of these issues weighed upon her mind, but none of them caused her as much distress as Draco's current status. He still hadn't awoken from his coma-like state, and it scared her. What if he died? Hermione didn't think she'd ever forgive herself. It was her fault he was in such a precarious situation. She had been too careless during the fight on Christmas Day, allowing herself to be consumed by the idea of vengeance, and it bothered her that she had made such a monumental mistake.

Once Hermione reached the school, she slowly climbed the stairs to the Hospital Wing to visit Draco. She sat on a chair at his bedside and watched his face for any signs of life. She hadn't done much else during her visits, aside from contemplating ways to help him recover—what better use could her vast knowledge of magical medicine be good for? The best solution she could think of was to share magic with him in return. However, her own magic wasn't restored enough to do so. And to the best of her knowledge, there weren't any spells or potions that could bring him out of his coma.

Tonks had brought Scorpius to see Draco on the day Hermione had awoken, but the visit had been too traumatic for the little boy to handle. He just didn't understand why his father wouldn't respond to his words or touches. Hermione had recommended that Scorp not return. The next day, she visited him after seeing Draco. He asked about his father, and Hermione replied, "He's getting better. You'll be able to see him soon." The words made her feel like a liar.

A stray tear rolled down her cheek as she continued to muse over all of life's complications. Things were so vastly different from what she'd planned.

"Draco, you have to wake up," Hermione whispered.

Of course, he didn't respond.

She sighed and, on a whim, reached out and took his left hand in both of hers. Despite his fragile appearance, his hand was warm and strong. The contact sent a rush of butterflies through her stomach, but she refused to analyze the reason behind her reaction. She had only been a widow for four months; she wasn't ready to have feelings for another man so soon.

And yet…

She stared down at Draco's calm features, thinking that she had never seen him so peaceful or relaxed before. It was an odd juxtaposition. Hermione didn't know where her common sense fled to after that, or why she allowed herself to act on impulse. But she did. She found herself slowly leaning closer to him. Before she could fully comprehend her actions, she pressed her lips to his.

The butterflies returned tenfold. She gripped his hand tighter as she prolonged the contact. In the back of her mind, she registered that there was some kind of connection between them. Something that hadn't been there before. It was almost like…like a small thread that connected their hearts to each other's. Still, she brushed the thought side and continued to kiss him softly.

Draco gasped and his eyes flew open. Hermione was too startled to back away like she should have upon being caught in such a position. Instead, with her lips still against his, she met his gaze. For a moment, she watched confusion flicker in his eyes. Then realization hit him. His eyes widened, and then his right hand moved to her cheek, he closed his eyes once more, and resumed kissing her.

Hermione leaned back just enough for Draco to pull himself upright. Then, inexplicably, she found herself on the bed, straddling his lap. His arms wound around her waist tightly. Instinctively, her own arms settled around his neck, and she began toying with his hair. He groaned and deepened the kiss.

They passed several long minutes in this manner until sense returned abruptly to Hermione. She pulled away from Draco, and he made a small sound of protest. Panting heavily, she once more stared into his eyes. His gaze continually flickered to her lips, and Hermione had to remind herself to disentangle from him and climb off of the bed.

"So…" she muttered uncomfortably, "it's good to see you awake."

Draco's brow furrowed. "What the hell was that?"

Hermione was suddenly devoid of intelligent conversation. She shook her head furiously, then turned and fled the Hospital Wing. Clearly, she hadn't been thinking. She was absolutely mortified at her brazen behavior. Even when she was dating Ron, she'd never acted so out of character! What was _wrong_ with her?

* * *

 _8 January 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

"After you add the Wolfsbane to your cauldron, stir the potion three times counter-clockwise," Draco instructed his class of first year Hufflepuffs. "Then wave your wand over the cauldron to finish it. Once you've done that, bottle up a sample and place it on my desk for grading."

The children stared at him blankly for a moment.

"You may begin," he said, somewhat snappish.

With a flurry of movement and some frightened whispers, the students began brewing their Wideye Potions. Draco sat heavily on the chair behind his desk and rested his forehead in his hands. He was ridiculously distracted. It didn't help that he had returned to work so shortly after awakening from his coma, but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't just sit in his apartment and think about that _kiss_ all day. It was driving him mad.

The thing that mystified him the most, though, was the fact that he'd had some sort of connection to Hermione ever since then. At every moment of the day he knew exactly where in the school she was. Sometimes, the connection was so strong that he knew what she was feeling. They seemed to be psychically linked. It scared him. On some level he was grateful that the connection was there. And yet, he didn't want it, either.

Why it was there remained a mystery. Draco sighed. He was done teaching for the day after this batch of students left; perhaps he would head to the library and try to figure out what the link between him and Hermione was and how it had been enacted. That thought made him chuckle. While he had been second in his graduating class, he never had been keen on research. He never thought he'd see the day when he'd go to the library for personal reasons rather than scholastic.

Draco had been so consumed by his thoughts that he didn't realize how fast time was passing. When the break bell gonged across the school grounds, he jumped up from his chair and glared at his students as they deposited their potion samples on his desk. Each student practically threw the vial at him, then scampered out of the classroom without looking back. It made him think that maybe he was emulating Severus a little too well lately.

With a shrug, he Vanished the potion samples to his office, then trudged up to the library. But when the heavy oak doors had swung shut behind him, Draco realized he had no idea where to start looking. Whatever was going on wasn't something that had a neat label, that was for sure. He slumped on a chair at the nearest table with a great, heaving sigh.

What was he supposed to do? He knew _about_ the spell that had been cast on Hermione, but he didn't know the name of it. That small bit of knowledge did him no good because he couldn't exactly look up the spell without its name. And then it hit him: the spell was very obviously a Dark one, and spells of that nature were really only ever found in books from the Restricted Section. Being a teacher meant that he didn't have to seek permission to access those books, either.

Draco headed into the Restricted Section with a new spring in his step. He carefully scanned each book on every shelf, pulling a few options down as he went. When he returned to his table, he was equipped with _Rare Dark Magic_ , _Curses to Eliminate Threats_ , and _Grindelwald's Spells_. He thought perhaps the last one was a good lead, since Grindelwald had spent dozens of years simply inventing atrocious curses to use upon his victims.

It wasn't long before Draco was immersed in his studies. Unfortunately, there hadn't been anything useful in _Rare Dark Magic_. He had been hopeful that he would find something since the spell that nearly killed Hermione was extremely rare. But not rare enough, perhaps. _Curses to Eliminate Threats_ was completely unimaginative. Nothing in it was even remotely Dark, which led Draco to wonder what it was even doing in the Restricted Section. It turned out that _Grindelwald's Spells_ was more of a journal than a history book. Grindelwald himself had written it. And in it, one particular passage caught Draco's eye.

 _Why should wizards have to hide from Muggles? We're not the ones that did anything wrong, and yet we are oppressed by people that don't even have magic! Allowing Mudbloods to join the Magical world is only worsening the situation! Why should they be allowed to join our world when they are part of the people that have forced us into hiding? I cannot abide by this any longer, so I have developed a spell that will eliminate a person's magic. That way, I can take magic away from the unworthy. I call it_ Exterminus. _I shan't write the incantation here for fear that it will fall into the wrong hands._

It wasn't much, but it gave Draco a better place to start. He knew the name of the curse, so he could find something that detailed it better, right? With a wave of his wand, his selected books reshelved themselves in the Restricted Section. Then he made his way to the area of the library that housed the medical texts. This time, only one book looked promising.

Draco lugged the overlarge textbook back to his table. _Cures to Uncommon Dark Spells_ was bound to have something useful. He scanned the index carefully, making sure he didn't miss a single topic listed. The section titled "New Curses of the Twentieth Century" seemed the most likely to have the information he wanted.

He was so engrossed in examining the book that he didn't notice Hermione approach his table and sit down across from him. He didn't notice as she watched him read, carefully identifying the book and contemplating what he could be using it for. He didn't notice when she made the connection between his reading material and the spell that had rendered her unconscious for a week.

Draco _did_ notice when Hermione cleared her throat loudly. His head snapped up, and his eyes widened at her expression. Shit. This couldn't be good.

"What are you up to, Draco?" she asked, feigning nonchalance.

"I, er…" he stuttered.

Hermione just raised an eyebrow.

Draco sighed. "Okay, fine. I'm trying to figure out what exactly that curse was that Rowle hit you with on Christmas."

She nodded as if she had been expecting that answer. "Why?"

He took a deep breath to fortify himself. "Have you noticed that…well, what I mean to say is…" He trailed off, feeling highly uncomfortable.

"You mean to ask me if I've noticed the weird connection between us since you woke up?" Hermione asked, pursing her lips.

Draco grimaced and nodded.

"I'd say it's fairly obvious that I have. And I beat you to the research last week. Apparently it's a side effect of sharing ones magic with another." She folded her arms over her chest, seeming almost angry.

Draco frowned. "Well you don't have to make it sound like Voldemort's been resurrected again!" he snapped. Seriously. She was being so rude.

Hermione scoffed. "What, you expect me to rejoice in its existence?"

"Of course not, but you could try being more grateful that I saved your damn life!" He rolled his eyes.

She stared at him for a long, tense moment before sighing and letting go of the angry tension in her shoulders. "I am grateful, honestly. I'm just so frustrated by this situation in general, and this bizarre connection compounded on top of everything is just making it all seem worse."

"I can understand that," Draco acknowledged. After another pause, he added, "I think we need to stop reacting to the attacks and start figuring out why they're happening."

"But the Aurors have been investigating since the first attack," Hermione reasoned. "Why would we be able to do any better than them?"

"Because we've got first-hand experience with this sort of thing. You helped Potter defeat Voldemort, and I was subjected to his insane ideals for my entire childhood. I think we've got a better grasp on the reasons behind attacks like these than some stuffy old Aurors." He grinned triumphantly.

She nodded slightly. "Okay, you make a decent point. The only problem with your plan is that we still have to teach. When are we going to have the time for research?"

"Right. I hadn't considered that. Sorry. The idea just popped into my head, so I blurted it out."

"I still think it's a good one. You're right about us having more first-hand experience. And…" She trailed off and rested a hand on her stomach. "And I think we need to figure out what's going on before Hugo is born. Godric knows I don't want to bring him into a world that has the potential to break out into a third Wizarding War."

"Okay, so we investigate. How do we do that while maintaining our teaching positions?"

Hermione frowned again. "Well, there are always the times when we're not teaching. I can spend the days that I'm exclusively in the library doing research. If we need to, we can leave campus on the weekends and leave the kids with Tonks and Remus."

Draco matched her frown. "As much as I don't like the idea of spending so much time away from Scorp, it may be necessary. I mean, if we don't figure out what's going on and put a stop to it, I may not even be around to spend time _with_."

"So where do we start?" she asked, looking just as bothered by the idea as he was.

"During the attack at the Victory Celebration, there were some very familiar voices present. I could have sworn I heard my father. I thought it to be impossible, but, then again, most everyone thought Voldemort's resurrection to be impossible. Add that to the fact that he was a part of the plan to attack the school, and I just know that he's involved somehow." He shrugged.

"Do you want to interrogate him or something?" Hermione asked dubiously.

Draco shrugged again. "I guess so."

"After you do that, I think we should start at the beginning. It's safe to assume at this point that the Death Eaters were behind the attack at the Ministry. We need to find out why that was their first stop. They might have been after something, and we need to know what it is."

"I agree. There's something definitely strange about everything that's been going on."

Hermione surprised him by reaching across the table and taking his hand. "We're going to fix this."

Draco squeezed her hand softly. "We have to."


	15. Dangerous Secrets

A/N: I did it guys! I was far too excited to write this chapter to NOT find time to write it this last week! Finally, you're getting some real answers! I hope you like what I came up with. It actually came to be from a completely unrelated Dramione plot bunny, but I decided it fit better here in the long run. Cheers!

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Dangerous Secrets

 _14 January 2007, Malfoy Manor_

* * *

"I'm really not sure this is a good idea, Draco," Narcissa whispered, wringing her hands.

Draco reached across the small table and stilled her anxious movements with a reassuring touch. "It's probably _not_ a good idea, Mother. It's just the only option we have left. If Father knows something, then I need to find out."

She sighed daintily. "I still wish you would let me come with you. He might not be so aggressive if I were there."

"Absolutely not." He shook his head fiercely. "I will not put you in unnecessary danger. Father is likely to become volatile, and I will not have you in the vicinity."

Narcissa frowned prettily but nodded once. "At least cast some protective spells before you go into his study."

Draco stood up and moved around the table to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. "That's a great idea. Why don't you do it? You were always better than me at protective spells."

"You're lying, but I appreciate the sentiment." She rose to her feet gracefully and cast several spells over him that would render him nearly invincible.

"Thank you, Mother. I promise to inform you of anything he may reveal."

With one last wan smile, Draco left his mother in her personal tea parlor and walked to the other side of the manor where his father's study was located. He knew Lucius was inside, for he had cast a location spell upon his arrival at the manor. He didn't bother to knock when he reached the door. If he did, and Lucius answered, he knew the door would be slammed in his face. Lucius would then go on to pretend that Draco didn't exist regardless of what he did to gain attention.

Therefore, Draco flung the doors open unceremoniously and barged into the room. Lucius looked up from where he sat at his desk, clearly startled. He quickly hid his shock with a nasty sneer, then turned back to the documents he had been examining before the interruption.

"I have some questions you need to answer, Father."

Lucius went on pretending he couldn't hear Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes and stormed over to the desk. He slammed both palms on the shiny surface and leaned forward, but still did not get a reaction from his father. Apparently knocking and barging in had the same result. Not in the mood to play games, he pulled out his wand and wordlessly cast the Full-Body Bind on Lucius. His father snapped into a straight-backed position, forced into place by magic. Draco smirked at the obvious fury on his face.

"Now, we're going to do this whether you like it or not," he said in a deadly calm voice. "I have some questions, and you're going to answer them."

Lucius stared at Draco's wand, which was still held loosely in his hand.

Draco shrugged and waved his wand, releasing the spell just enough for Lucius to be able to talk. His mouth could move, but the rest of his body remained immobile. Draco decided to start with a question that he already knew the answer to. "Do you know anything about what happened at Hogwarts on Christmas?"

Lucius managed to roll his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed," he sneered, "I've been confined to the manor for the last eight years."

Draco didn't miss the fact that his father hadn't really answered the question. "Just because you've been stuck here doesn't mean you don't know anything about the attack."

"Well, I _don't_ know anything, so you can leave now."

Even though Lucius's response was aggravating, Draco did not lose his temper. Instead, he pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. "I happen to know that you're lying to me; it's a good thing I brought Veritaserum with me today."

Lucius scoffed. "I seriously doubt that."

"Would you like to find out?"

"Try me."

For his part, Draco did a very good job hiding his panic. He'd really brought water; he didn't have any Veritaserum handy, and it took forever to brew. The problem was that he hadn't counted on Lucius calling his bluff. The best he could do now was hope that his father would somehow be tricked into telling the truth by ingesting the water. So, he took a falsely confident step around the desk and poured the contents of the vial into Lucius's mouth.

He could tell right away that his father knew it was fake. The look in his eyes was very telling. Still, he refused to admit that he was trying to pull one over on Lucius. Draco settled a triumphant smirk on his face, then said, "Let's try this again. What do you know about the attack on Christmas?"

"Nothing," Lucius replied stoically, emphasizing both syllables equally.

Draco fought the urge to bite his lip. "Fine. What do you know about the attack at the Victory Celebration?"

"Not. One. Thing." Lucius began smirking in his own triumph. He had clearly noticed Draco's discomfort.

He never had been any good at hiding his emotions from his father. And still, he knew Lucius was lying to him. The gleam in his eyes said as much, though it didn't tell him what his father knew.

"And the attack at the Ministry back in June?"

"Nope."

Draco knew he had lost. Fighting back a defeated sigh, he straightened his back formally. "I don't believe you; you know I don't. This isn't over." Then he stormed from the study, taunted by Lucius's mocking laughter.

Narcissa stood up when he reentered her parlor. "Well?"

He shook his head. "He called my bluff."

She frowned in sympathy. "So what do we do now?"

"I left him Petrified upstairs; you should pretend you didn't know I was here and go looking for him. Act shocked and appalled when you find him." He shrugged. "I'll be back when I really have Veritaserum, but for now he can't know you're working with me."

"All right." She lightly kissed his cheek. "Stay safe, son."

Draco gave her a tiny smile. "I promise. And if he suspects anything is off with you, come straight to Hogwarts. I'll make sure you're safe."

"I promise," she echoed.

* * *

 _14 January 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

Hermione paced back and forth in the library, nervously awaiting Draco's return. She knew he was safe because of the connection they now shared, but that wasn't what was aggravating her the most. She wanted to be doing something hands-on with the investigation, not puttering around like an old maid.

Besides that, it was Sunday night, and they were running out of time to get to the Ministry. She wanted to have some kind of information before she had to get back to work the next day. Hermione was beginning another lap around the library when she heard the doors shut with a loud _bang!_ She was only waiting for a few seconds before Draco stormed into view.

"I take it you didn't have much success?" she asked with a grimace.

"No, dammit. He called my bluff about the Veritaserum and refused to tell me anything."

"Don't worry about it too much," she soothed. "You'll have it finished soon enough, and you can go back to question him then."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

"Shall we go to the Ministry?" Hermione ventured. "Or do you need a break?"

"No, let's go. I'd like to have _some_ information at the end of the day. Otherwise it'll have been pointless. I hate it when things are pointless."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his petulance. "This is so reminiscent of eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy."

He rolled his eyes in good humor. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get a move on, shall we?"

"Let's."

The pair quietly walked down to Hogsmeade, then Apparated to the Ministry once they were outside of the anti-magic boundary. The atrium was deathly silent when they arrived, much like Hermione remembered it from her trip there back in fifth year. She still remembered the exact pathway to the Department of Mysteries, too.

Hermione silently waved Draco over to the lifts, and they rode one of them down to the ninth floor. The corridor was just as eerie and dark as she remembered; the door at the end was still plain and black and seemingly-impenetrable as ever. She stared at it for a long while, thinking about all of the horrible things that had happened the last time she was here.

"How will we get in?" Draco finally asked.

"When I was here at the end of our fifth year," Hermione said softly, "it just opened for Harry. He didn't even touch it."

Draco frowned. "So does it open by force of will, then?"

She shrugged. "I've no idea. And I hate not knowing things."

"Not _that's_ highly reminiscent of eleven-year-old Hermione Granger."

"Shut up," she said, slapping his arm playfully.

He grinned at her, then pulled his wand out of his pocket. "I'm going to try to open it."

"Be careful."

Draco slowly reached out to touch the smooth surface of the door. Just like it had for Harry, the door swung open before he could make contact. Hermione frowned. How was this department supposed to remain safe if anyone could gain access to it? She resolved to talk to Kingsley about it as soon as possible. Perhaps she'd send him an owl when she got back to the castle.

"Well, I guess there's nothing for it, then." Draco stepped over the threshold. Nothing happened.

Hermione followed him inside. The department had changed the layout quite a bit since her last visit. The first room was no longer the circular room full of doors. Rather, it was a complex web of staircases and short hallways that intersected each other and went upward as high as she could see when she craned her neck. Right in front of the first staircase was, of all things, an interdepartmental map. How convenient.

"This is _so_ not the same," she murmured.

"No?" Draco asked, examining the room with something akin to awe on his face.

Hermione shook her head. "It was circular, and every time you opened or closed a door, the walls would spin to confuse you. It was dreadfully time-consuming."

"Then this is much better?"

"The room's not spinning yet, so I'll say yes."

Draco chuckled. "Where do you think we should start?"

Hermione approached the map and skimmed the key on the left side. Dozens of sub-departments and their directors' offices were listed. They didn't need the Time Room, that much was almost certain. She remembered Ron saying that the department hadn't rebuilt any of the Time-Turners after 1996. She figured that the answers they needed wouldn't be housed in the Love Room. What use did Death Eaters have for love?

She sighed. "There are too many options. What do you think? Would they have gone into the Brain Room?"

Draco shuddered. "I doubt it. That division is all about thought, right?"

She nodded.

"Then, no, I can't think of any reason the Death Eaters would go there."

"Okay." Hermione ran her finger down the list. "The Space Room?"

He shook his head. "That doesn't seem likely. It's not like the Death Eaters are really aspiring astronauts."

Hermione hummed in agreement and continued perusing the list. "Could they have been after another prophecy?"

"I suppose so. Though why that would engender an increase in Death Eater activity is beyond me." Draco frowned pensively.

"The only other thing that makes any sense is the Death Department."

He nodded slowly. "Well, we can start there. If we don't find anything, we'll move on to the Hall of Prophecies. Agreed?"

"Agreed. The Death division is on the fifth level." Hermione read through the list of division heads one more time. "Perhaps we should stop in Peasegood's office to see if he has any records that may help."

"That's a good idea," Draco said. "Lead the way."

She did. They spent several minutes making their way through the convoluted maze of corridors and staircases before they found the fifth floor. Arnie Peasegood's office was behind the first door they encountered. Hermione quickly unlocked the door with a charm, and the pair slipped into the office.

The room was full of cupboards and filing cabinets. Hermione sighed. It looked as though Peasegood had records of everything that had ever been researched or experimented with in the Death division. It would take them forever to get through all of this.

"I have an idea," Hermione said after a moment. "It will take us far too long to get through all of this paperwork, and we're liable to get caught if we linger. What if I make copies of everything and we take it back to Hogwarts?"

Draco turned in a circle, scanning the many shelves and cabinets. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, that's probably the best idea. How are we going to get so much paperwork back to the school, though?"

Hermione grinned. "Shrinking Charms and my beaded handbag."

"What? How is a beaded handbag supposed to hold everything, even if it is in miniature?"

She pulled the small bag out of a pocket in her robes and opened it, then shoved it under Draco's nose. He raised an eyebrow, but looked inside obligingly.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking at, here."

"It's got an Undetectable Extension Charm on it." She rolled her eyes. After a moment spent examining the room again, she added, "Do you think the paperwork will be duplicated if we just make copies of the cabinets?"

"There's only one way to find out," Draco said. He waved his wand at the cabinet closest to him, and its twin appeared beside it. He pulled open the top drawer. "It worked!"

Hermione sighed in relief. "This will make this process much faster."

Draco just nodded and shrunk the duplicate filing cabinet down, then dropped it inside her handbag before moving on to the next one. Hermione set her bag down on Peasegood's desk and started on the cabinets on the opposite side of the room. It took them nearly an hour, but they finally had copies of every file within the office. Hermione's bag rattled loudly when she picked it up and closed the latch.

"Back to Hogwarts," she said tiredly.

"Finally. I'm exhausted." Draco rubbed his eyes, much like a toddler fighting sleep. Hermione couldn't help but smile at the action.

They wound their way back to the ground floor of the department, through the plain black door, up the lifts, and into the atrium. Hermione started when Draco gently took her hand in his and Apparated them back to Hogsmeade. As they walked back to the school, he didn't let go, and she found she didn't mind as much as she thought she would. Draco even walked her back to her apartment.

"Goodnight," she murmured after unlocking the door.

"See you tomorrow." He looked at her intensely, then leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek.

Hermione watched him walk away, a hand pressed to the place where his lips had been just moments before. Draco Malfoy was breaking down her walls, and she became more willing to let him every day. She shook her head ruefully. She was falling for him. Hard.

* * *

 _1 February 2007, Hogwarts  
_

* * *

Hermione had spent the last two weeks going through the mountains of paperwork in her spare time. While a lot of very unethical experiments had occurred in the department, she didn't find anything that even remotely fit the bill of what they needed. She was beginning to think that she and Draco would have to take a trip back to the Ministry to visit the Hall of Prophecies.

She had, of course, split the documentation in half with him in the hopes that they would get through it faster. She was about a third of the way through her own supply, and figured she was a lot further than Draco was, for she had a lot more free time than he did.

It was nearing midnight, and one-year-old Rose had been asleep for several hours already, when Hermione opened another folder and found something she didn't expect. It enraged her to find out that such a big secret was being kept from the Wizarding world. Aside from that, half of it was hidden away at St. Mungo's! She had worked there for seven years, and yet had not ever received a hint of something so sinister.

She jumped to her feet. But before she stormed to the dungeons in her righteous anger, she stuck her head inside Rose's room to make sure she was still sleeping soundly. When she was certain her daughter wouldn't wake any time soon, she cast a quick spell over the crib that would alert her if something did happen. Then she commenced her furious march to Draco's apartment.

When she arrived, she knew she couldn't pound on the door like she wanted to; Scorpius was likely asleep, and she didn't want to wake him. So she knocked lightly and listened for any signs of life behind it. Hermione had only waited a few seconds before the door opened to reveal Draco, bare-chested and holding a stack of papers. He didn't look particularly surprised to see her.

"Finally found something, have you?" he asked softly.

Hermione nodded, her mouth suddenly dry at the sight of a shirtless Draco Malfoy. The man in question waved her inside, then distractedly accompanied her to the couch in his living room. She figured they might be conversing for quite some time, and so made herself comfortable.

She waited for a couple minutes while Draco finished reading whatever it was he'd been working on. He finally looked up at her and said, "I've come across nothing but rubbish so far. Please tell me you've got a good lead."

"I think so," she replied. "And it's a really big deal; I can't believe the Ministry has kept it from the public, to be honest."

Draco shrugged. "Perhaps they don't know about it. Someone inside the Department of Mysteries could easily have started the project without the minister's authority."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose so."

"So what is it?"

She sighed. "First of all, you should know that there is a door in the Department of Mysteries that is locked by a very powerful spell. _Alohomora_ doesn't work on it, and when Harry tried to use his magical pocketknife to open it, it was completely melted."

Draco frowned. "I take it something important is behind that door, then."

Hermione opened her folder once more. "This file is all about dementors."

"What do dementors have to do with researching death? I mean, I know they induce intense misery, and that effected people often die as a result, but I don't think that's the same thing." Draco looked mightily confused.

"We both know that the Dementor's Kiss removes a person's soul from their body," Hermione started.

"Right."

"Did you know that the person's body doesn't actually die?"

He frowned again. "What?"

"Yes. Remus told Harry in our third year that even though a person's soul may be gone, their body can live on for as long as the heart and brain keep working. They won't be any sort of functional, but they are still technically alive."

"There are so many things wrong with that; I can't even begin to start listing them." Now Draco looked furious.

"There's more." Hermione picked up a single piece of paper. "Listen to this:

" _It has become common practice to inform the public that a Dementor's Kiss is irreversible. This is not, however, the truth. After a dementor has sucked out someone's soul, it is retrieved and stored in the Soul Vault. Recent developments within the department have led to a highly detailed identification process and a strict labeling of each soul._

" _Furthermore, the bodies are not just left to die. They are transported to St. Mungo's where they are kept in a long-term wing, should a need to restore a soul to one of them ever arise. This process has only been operational for the last fifteen years; therefore, the number of restorations possible are limited to the twenty-five people that have received the Kiss in that time._ "

She looked up at Draco, her eyes ablaze. "How could they keep such a secret from us? This is absolutely vile!"

"When was that document written?" he asked.

Hermione scanned the paper once more. "It was updated in November."

He steepled his fingers and rested his chin upon them. "This is one hell of a secret that we've uncovered, but does it actually help us in the long run?"

"I think we need to get into the Soul Vault and find out. If there aren't any missing souls, then the answer is no. But if there are…" She let him infer the consequences on his own.

"Do you want to go back to the Ministry on Saturday, then?" Draco asked, his silver gaze intense.

Hermione nodded, her eyes once more raking over his muscular chest. He turned back to his handful of documents and didn't seem to notice her interest, so she continued to enjoy the show. She didn't expect to react so strongly, though. Her heart began pounding, and her breaths came quicker. She wanted him, apparently much more than she'd consciously realized.

When Draco finally looked up and met her gaze, she was too entranced to look away. She was too far gone to even be embarrassed. His eyes darkened with his own desire, and he set his papers aside before moving closer to her on the couch. Hermione willingly surrendered her file to him when he pulled it from her grasp, still unable to break eye contact.

And then he gently cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. The feeling was so intense that Hermione nearly lost all control. She pulled herself closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Draco slid his hands into her hair and pulled her impossibly closer. She opened her mouth for a brief gasp of air, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The thread that connected them—the one she'd noticed the day Draco woke up from his coma—seemed to be growing stronger the more intensely they kissed. In her mind's eye, she imagined it turning to solid gold.

Hermione released her hold on Draco's neck in order to let her hands wander down his chest. He rumbled in pleasure at her touch and slowly lowered them until Hermione was lying on her back. With a playful nip at her bottom lip, he began trailing kisses across her jaw and down her throat. She tilted her head back to give him better access. When the evening had devolved from research to this, she couldn't quite pinpoint anymore.

But she let it continue.

It felt too good.

Draco made his way back to her lips and kissed her thoroughly. Hermione's toes were tingling by the time he paused to take a breath. She waited in anticipation for him to kiss her again; instead, he pulled away and sat up on the couch. She followed his movements, reaching for him, but he gently lowered her hands back to her lap.

"We shouldn't do this," he murmured. "You'll just regret it in the morning."

Hermione would have argued with him had logic not returned and slapped her across the face. She took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right; I'm sorry."

He gave her a sad smile. "I'm the one that should be sorry, not you."

"Why?"

"Because you're not ready for whatever this is between us. Hell, I'm not sure _I'm_ ready." He shook his head. "If something is going to happen, we can't rush it just because of this weird connection we have."

Hermione furrowed her brow. Could it have been their connection that was fueling her sudden craving for Draco? It made sense. Slowly, she nodded again. "I'm _not_ ready for this, you're right." She frowned. "But I don't know if that means I'll never be ready. I feel bad, though, like I'm leading you on."

Draco shrugged. "It's not like I've discouraged you or anything."

"Well, it's late," she said softly. "I should go."

"I'll meet you Sunday morning after breakfast, then?"

She nodded and stood up. After giving Draco a soft smile, she left his apartment and slowly walked back to her own. She had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

 _4 February 2007, Ministry of Magic_

* * *

Draco had a faint smile on his face as he and Hermione took the lift down to the Department of Mysteries. He had instinctively reached for her hand as they walked to the outskirts of Hogwarts' grounds, and had yet to let it go. She wasn't fighting it, either, which was what had him so happy.

Just like before, the door to the department swung open as they approached it. This time, though, they entered without hesitation. They climbed the winding staircases to the fifth floor, then hunted for the door to the Soul Vault. It, too, was a nondescript black door.

Hermione stopped short. "I, er…I don't know how to open it."

Draco frowned. "Damn. I forgot what you told me about the door a few days ago. Now what do we do?"

"Well, the head of the division would have a key, right?" she reasoned.

"Of course." He rolled his eyes at himself. "Of course."

Hermione grinned and led the way back to Peasegood's office. She rifled through his desk and found the key almost immediately. She held it aloft with a triumphant smirk, and they hurried back to the Soul Vault. The key worked, and the door swung open to reveal a dimly lit, rectangular room full of hundreds of shelves. Glittering on the shelves were thousands upon thousands of tiny, iridescent boxes. Draco stepped closer to examine one; inside, a semi-solid _something_ was slithering around the confined space. He shuddered.

On the shelf in front of where the box had been sitting was a tiny placard that read _Dolores Umbridge_. He laughed. "Hermione, Umbridge got the Kiss!"

She hurried over. "You're kidding!"

Draco held up the tiny box. "Nope."

"I feel awful that this brings me joy," Hermione admitted guiltily, "but it serves her right."

"Agreed."

"I'll take this half of the room, if you'd like," she offered.

"Okay. Meet you in the middle." He grinned at her, then took off for the opposite wall.

He scanned each shelf, looking for something out of place. Nothing was. He walked up and down the rows, but nothing looked suspicious in any way, aside from the fact that this was a room full of souls. He started when he heard Hermione cry out in distress.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" he shouted.

"Come here!" she replied.

He ran through the shelves until he spotted her, almost halfway through her section. "What is it?"

"There's a soul missing," she whispered.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

She shook her head. "I'm going to be sick."

He glanced at the empty space on the shelf she was staring at, and immediately knew why. "Okay, let's get you back to the school," he said. "I can go to St. Mungo's on my own to double check this lead."

"Okay." She really did look awful. Her skin was tinged a pale green, and she moved woozily.

Draco shook his head. "I'm Apparating us there right now."

Without waiting for her reply, he did just that. When they arrived on the edge of Hogsmeade, he scooped her up and carried her back to the school. She wiggled in his arms like she wanted to be let down when they reached the entrance hall, but he just tightened his grip on her and took her to her apartment. She mumbled the password, and Draco continued inside until he reached her bedroom. He laid her down and tucked her in, then brushed some hair off of her face and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Send me a Patronus if you need anything."

She nodded and he left, quietly closing the door behind him. Then he sprinted back outside to the Apparation point and disappeared with a loud _crack!_ He landed inside the small exam room where he had first brought Scorpius. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Draco opened the door a sliver and peered out. There was nobody in sight, and the lobby was dark. He crept out and made his way to the lifts. Once inside, he pressed the button for the basement floor. He figured the long-term wing where the Kiss victims were kept would be deep underground, somewhere that nobody would accidentally stumble across.

The basement appeared to be full of nothing but storage closets and janitorial supplies. One of the closets had to be a ruse. So he set about opening each one and examining every wall and shelf for anything that could be a secret passage or hidden doorway. He didn't find anything in any of the closets. At the end of the long hallway, he pounded his fist against the wall in frustration. He needed answers, and he didn't want to return to Hogwarts without them.

And then the bricks in the wall he was facing shifted back and to the left just enough to reveal a seam. Draco pushed on it, and the section of wall swung open. Behind it was another long, narrow hallway filled with hospital beds. The front half of the corridor held only empty beds, but the back half had two-dozen motionless bodies. He moved closer and counted the people again. Twenty-four. The document Hermione had found said that twenty-five people had received the Kiss whose bodies were being held here. Sure enough, Dolores Umbridge occupied the bed that was furthest from him on the left. The one bed that should have been occupied still had a clipboard with the patient's name on it.

It was just as Draco had feared: Barty Crouch, Jr. was gone.


	16. Darkness Unvanquished

A/N: This chapter turned out shorter than I thought it would, so I apologize for that. It's got some action, though. And a little taste of some more Dramione. Hopefully that makes up for the shortness.

On a completely unrelated note, I signed up for a Dramione fest on Hawthorn & Vine! The fest won't begin posting stories until FEBRUARY, but stay tuned, please! I'll post it here once the fest begins. I'm also rapidly becoming obsessed with the Minecraft server Dumbledore's Army. If you have Minecraft, check it out. You will thank me, because you basically get to live that dream of attending Hogwarts. No, really. Classes and spells and Animagi and (so far) the entire storyline of Sorcerer's Stone in quest form. It's epic.

Okay, enough ranting. Enjoy! :)

Oh, hey. Look! The title of the story and the title of this chapter match! What a coincidence! Or is it...?

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Darkness Unvanquished

 _7 February 2007, Potter Manor_

Hermione sighed deeply and rubbed her hands down her face. "It makes no sense, Harry," she complained. "What does any of this have to do with the Death Eater attacks?"

"Maybe the Death Eaters wanted a new leader, and they thought Crouch would be the best. You know, because everyone called him Voldemort's most loyal follower and all that." He shrugged.

"I suppose that could be it." She wasn't convinced. "Still, I wish that things could go back to the way they were before. I miss Ron, and I don't want to be in the middle of another war. I'm sick of it."

Harry grinned ruefully. "I get it 'Mione. I thought it was all over when I defeated Voldemort eight years ago. Maybe some things never change."

She shook her head fiercely. "I refuse to believe that."

Harry shrugged again, but didn't force the issue. "So what happens now?"

"I guess we try to find Crouch and put a stop to whatever is going on. But I still feel as clueless as I did before I started looking for answers. All I'm getting is more questions, and I don't think I can answer them."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but instead clapped a hand to his forehead with a wince. He screwed his eyes shut. Hermione was instantly reminded of how he looked when he used to receive visions from Voldemort. She worried that he would lose consciousness again. And then it was over. He straightened up, looking mightily confused, but no longer in pain.

"Harry, what _was_ that?" Hermione asked, feeling panicky.

He shook his head. "I've no idea. That hasn't happened since…" He trailed off with a sigh.

Hermione sat back in her seat, trying to convince herself to relax again. All this stress wasn't good for the baby. But she couldn't calm her racing heart. Was it getting colder? Something definitely felt off, but she couldn't pinpoint it.

At least, not until a horribly familiar voice whispered, "Have you missed me, Harry?"

They both jumped to their feet with horrified gasps. No. It couldn't be true. Yet the evidence stood before her, having just emerged from Harry's fireplace. Voldemort was back. He looked much the same as before: pale, sallow skin, featureless face, and terrifying red eyes.

"What the hell?" Harry shouted.

Voldemort chuckled. "You didn't really think it would be that easy to get rid of me, did you?"

Harry snorted. " _Easy_? That was the worst year of my life! I wouldn't exactly call it easy!"

Voldemort waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, but Dumbledore did most of the work for you before he died."

Hermione frowned deeply. In her wildest dreams, she'd never imagined that the last several months had been leading up to… _this_. Of course, it made much more sense now that she knew the mastermind behind it all, but the thing that didn't make sense was how that evil sociopath was still alive. She'd helped destroy the Horcruxes. There had only been seven, she knew it! So why was the man in question standing in the same room as her?

"I can't believe this is happening again," she murmured.

Voldemort's eerie gaze snapped to her. "Believe it, little girl." He looked her up and down for a moment. "Not so little now, though. Pregnant again? How unoriginal."

She glared at him, but wisely kept her angry retort to herself.

"How are you here?" Harry finally demanded. " _Why_ are you here?"

"I'm here to kill you, obviously," Voldemort scoffed.

"Hermione, find Ginny and get out of here," Harry ordered. "Now."

"Harry," she started.

"No! Just do it!"

"Run away, little girl!" Voldemort mocked. "But you can't hide for long!"

That was it. "Fuck you, bastard," she snarled. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and faced him. "You've done enough damage for one lifetime. And when we kill you again, it'll be for good this time."

Voldemort just laughed.

And then the conversation was over. Each of them began casting any spell they could think of. It was all done silently, so while Hermione had no exact way of knowing what Voldemort would do, she could act on the defensive. She cast as many protection and deflection spells as she knew, just trying to give Harry an upper hand.

"What is going on in—"

Hermione spun around at the sound of Ginny's voice. She had James, Rhys, and Rose at her side. Suddenly, the seriousness of the situation hit Hermione upside the head. Her daughter was in danger; she was endangering the life of her unborn child by staying.

"Ginny, we have to get out of here!"

Ginny seemed frozen in panic. "Harry!" she cried.

He shook his head, still intensely focused on dueling Voldemort.

"We can't just leave him here!" she shouted at Hermione.

"Get the kids somewhere safe," Hermione replied urgently. "I'll stay."

Ginny looked at her incredulously. "Don't be stupid! _You_ take the kids and _I'll_ stay!"

Hermione had to admit that it was a smarter plan if she wanted to keep her baby. "All right. Please, be safe!"

Her friend nodded and dashed into the foyer, adding her own amazing spell work to the pulsating lights in the room.

Hermione scooped up Rhys and Rose. "Hold on to my robes, Jamie," she instructed the three-year-old.

The little boy just nodded at her, clearly frightened but trying to fight back his tears. He was definitely his father's son. Rhys, meanwhile, erupted into terrified screams, which prompted Rose to start crying as well. A bit frustrated, and very much scared herself, Hermione Apparated out of Potter Manor. She landed in the only place she could think would be safe at the moment: Hogwarts.

Hermione ran as fast as she could with three small children clinging to her. It wasn't fast enough for her liking. When she burst through the front doors, she immediately turned toward the dungeons, not stopping to question her instinct to find Draco. Within moments, she was pounding on his door.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Draco asked when he opened the door and saw her panicked face.

She shoved her way past him into the apartment. "Harry—Voldemort—Fighting…" she panted.

Draco took Rhys from her arms and set him on the floor. "Why don't you three go play with Scorp?" he suggested.

James rubbed the tears from his eyes and nodded. Hermione set Rose down as well, and James took each toddler's hand before escorting them to Scorpius's room.

"Okay, now tell me what happened," Draco demanded as soon as the children were out of earshot.

"Voldemort's back," Hermione wheezed. Draco led her to the couch and they both sat down. "He showed up at Harry's just now. They're fighting, and I don't know what to do. I'm scared, Draco."

Draco's expression hardened. "You stay here with the kids," he instructed.

"Wait, don't—"

He held up a hand and looked pointedly at her stomach. "You are six months pregnant and in no condition to be in a fight right now. I will go and get Potter out of there. You need to keep yourself safe."

Hermione hesitated, never one to sit back when there was a fight. Finally, she nodded. "Please, be safe," she whispered.

Draco looked into her eyes intensely for a long moment. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed him. She didn't want him to get hurt, but if he did, she wanted to make sure he knew she felt… _something_ for him. Even if she didn't know what that something was just yet.

He pulled back after a few brief seconds, then stood up. "Stay safe."

And then he was gone.

* * *

 _7 February 2007, Potter Manor_

Draco sprinted across Hogwarts' grounds until he was outside of the wards, then Apparated directly into Harry's sitting room. And directly into the middle of a fierce fight. He quickly spun away from Harry, who was looking especially bewildered at Draco's sudden appearance, and shot the first hex he could think of straight at Voldemort's head.

The spell didn't even get within six inches of him.

"What do we do, Potter?" Draco shouted over the ruckus.

"What makes you think I have an idea?" he shouted back.

Well. That was no good. Draco glanced at Ginny, who was having just as little luck at hitting Voldemort with anything. She had even resorted to throwing an antique vase at him, but it stopped in midair, then shattered on the ground.

"We need a plan," Draco said needlessly.

"Thanks for that, Malfoy!" Harry yelled.

"Well, it's true!"

"Would you both shut up?" Ginny roared.

Draco continued trying to curse Voldemort unsuccessfully. As he did, he surveyed the scene. Things were going downhill fast. Just as that thought registered in his head, he noticed a slight variation in Voldemort's technique. Instead of directly fighting Harry, he shifted to hit Ginny.

Harry saw it a split second later.

"Ginny!" He shoved her out of the way just in time, but was hit by the curse himself.

Draco didn't stop to think about what he was doing. He shot a Smokescreen Spell into the middle of the room, vaulted over the couch to where Ginny stood protectively in front of Harry, and with a handful of each of their shirts, Apparated them to Hogwarts.

When they landed, Draco assessed Harry's injuries. He was unconscious and losing blood fast. Ginny dropped to her knees. Her hands roved over the various gashes across his torso, trying to stem the blood flow. The only problem was that she didn't seem to know where to start. She was well on her way to hyperventilating.

"We need to get him to Hermione," he said urgently. "Come on."

Draco levitated Harry and sprinted back to the castle and down to his apartment. Ginny easily kept pace with him even though her legs were much shorter. They banged through the door. Hermione jumped to her feet as they entered the apartment, her face a mask of anxiety. When she saw Harry was injured, however, she quite suddenly snapped out of panicked-friend mode and into professional-mediwitch mode.

"Put him on the table," she instructed briskly.

Draco did as she asked. Ginny hovered nearby, still looking frightened out of her wits. When Harry was settled as best he could be in his condition, Draco stood there feeling very awkward.

"Draco, go get Padma and Tonks. Harry's going to need all the help he can get." Hermione's attention didn't divert from Harry as she gave him the directions.

It was going to take too long to run to opposite ends of the castle to gather the necessary helpers. Draco stood there, trying to figure out what to do. Then he remembered the discussion he'd had with Hermione all those months ago about Patronuses. Sending a message through a Patronus was definitely more efficient. She'd said that conjuring one was as simple as harnessing happy memories. He was a powerful wizard; he could figure out how to conjure a Patronus. He thought back to their conversation, trying hard to remember the incantation.

"Malfoy, what are you doing? Go!" Ginny screeched irately.

Draco ignored her, instead gathering the memories of Hermione from three nights ago: the way she had kissed him, the way it made him feel, everything about her. He closed his eyes, then whispered, " _Expecto Patronum_."

A silver otter shot out from his wand. It wasn't identical to Hermione's, though it was similar. Hers was graceful and slender, obviously feminine. Draco's was bigger, more muscular, and had a broader face. He didn't spend much time examining the creature. There would be time for that later. Instead, he relayed the message for Padma and Tonks, then sent it on its way. When he turned back around, both Hermione and Ginny were staring at him, mouths agape.

"What?" he asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "What did I do?"

Ginny shut her mouth and turned away, her face bright red. Draco wasn't sure if it was because of embarrassment or anger. He hoped for the former, but only by a small margin. Hermione, however, continued to gawk at him.

"What?" Draco asked, now defensive. "I thought it would be quicker than if I—"

He was cut off by a sharp rap on the door. Grateful for the interruption, he turned and pulled the door open, only to reveal Tonks and Padma. The two women rushed into the apartment. Padma went immediately to Hermione's side. Almost like a magnet, Tonks angled towards Scorpius's room to look after the kids.

Draco slumped onto the couch and watched as Hermione and Padma worked their literal magic on Harry. He felt completely useless. Add on top of that the very odd reaction he'd gotten at producing his very first Patronus successfully, and he found himself in an extremely foul mood. Without saying anything further, he got up and walked to his room, making sure to slam the door loudly once he passed the threshold.


	17. Lucius Malfoy Unmasked

A/N: This chapter is mostly Draco and Hermione bonding time.

Now, I have had a strong policy of not begging for reviews, because it seems obnoxious, but I really would appreciate some feedback this week. I'm struggling a bit to finish this story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Lucius Malfoy Unmasked

 _7 February 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

Hermione worked frantically to heal Harry. His injuries, while very serious, would not kill him now that he was in the care of medical personnel. She didn't work so quickly for his sake. No, it was because she wanted to talk to Draco about what had just happened, but she knew if she left right now, Ginny would lose her head. Hermione spent the next thirty minutes sealing the jagged slashes across Harry's torso. It took some time to make sure all of the muscle and flesh knit back together properly. When that was done, she asked Padma to administer the Dittany, then glanced at Ginny. Her friend nodded slightly, and she walked to Draco's bedroom with a sigh of relief. She didn't knock before she entered; she didn't want to give him the chance to turn her away.

When she caught sight of Draco, however, she thought maybe she _should_ have knocked. He was changing into fresh clothes, having obviously just gotten out of the shower. Hermione's hormones spiked furiously at the sight of his lean, muscular body. She was openly staring, but she couldn't make herself look away. He had paused in his movements when he heard the door open, and was staring at her in return. He made no move to cover his immodesty. The moment drew on for much longer than it should have.

Finally, Hermione cleared her throat and averted her eyes, highly embarrassed at her behavior. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Draco turn away and dress hurriedly. When he was decent, she looked up from the floor, but couldn't meet his eyes. Her face burned with a mix of shame and mortification.

"Er, Hermione?" Draco murmured after several awkward minutes. "Was there something you needed?"

She stared at a point somewhere over his left shoulder and shrugged. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish as she tried to find the words she had been so anxious to say, but the words had evaporated out of her head like water on hot asphalt.

Draco took a step, forcing himself into her line of sight. "Hermione?"

She forced herself to meet his gaze. The intense gleam in his fathomless grey eyes made her gulp nervously. "I—er—I wanted to apologize for—"

Understanding dawned on his face. "Oh, right. It's fine, don't worry about it." He turned around and began fussing with something she couldn't see.

His easy dismissal sparked an unexpected fury in Hermione. "Hey!"

Draco turned around and lifted an eyebrow in question.

Hermione's outburst suddenly felt very irrational. She looked back at the floor. She couldn't remember ever feeling so much like an airheaded schoolgirl. This whole situation had gone horribly awry. Perhaps it would just be better if she left. So she turned to leave without looking at Draco again.

She had just reached for the doorknob when Draco grabbed her arm and gently turned her back to face him. Hermione glanced up at him nervously. Now what was going to happen?

"Wait, I'm sorry," he said softly. "Don't go."

"What happened out there?" Hermione finally mustered up the courage to begin the conversation she had intended to have with him.

It was Draco's turn to shrug. "You were in a hurry. I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."

She frowned. "You know what I mean. I'm glad that you were able to produce a Patronus…I just—why was it an otter? That's what my Patronus is."

"I know," he muttered, looking away. "I…I don't know why it did that."

"In sixth year, Tonks's Patronus changed form. It used to be a jack rabbit, but it changed into a wolf when she and Remus fell in love…" Hermione trailed off, letting the implication hang heavy in the air between them.

Draco clenched his jaw, but didn't say anything.

"How long?" she whispered.

His gaze snapped to her, the look in his eyes fierce and defensive. "How long _what_?"

"Come on, Draco. Just answer the question."

He shook his head. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Hermione sighed in frustration and had to restrain herself from screaming at him. "Are you in love with me?"

Draco looked away, his jaw clenched once more.

It wasn't a denial.

She gently placed her hand on his cheek and forced him to look her in the eyes. "It's okay. Just tell me."

His gaze flickered over her face for a long time before he answered. When he did, it was like a volcano had exploded. "You're bloody pregnant with another man's kid! It's not right!"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Ron's dead, Draco." She placed her hand on her stomach. "This may be his son, but I will never be able to bring Ron back. I can't pine after a dead man. He would want me to move on, to be happy." The words burned her throat as she spoke them, but she knew they were true.

Draco shook his head again. "What does that have to do with me?"

She narrowed her eyes and stuck her hands on her hips. "You are so stubborn!" she shouted. "Why can't you just admit it?"

"What would it matter, even if it were true?" he yelled back.

She threw her hands up in the air. "Godric, you're impossible! Did it ever occur to you that I might be happy with _you?_ "

Draco's mouth dropped open, and he truly seemed incapable of words.

Hermione waited for him to say something…anything.

Several long, excruciating moments passed. Then he stuttered, "Do—do you mean it?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Indecision flashed across his face. And then his expression hardened—not into one of anger or denial, but one of acceptance and determination. He surged forward and swept Hermione into his arms, kissing her hard. She relaxed into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck so she could tangle her hands in his hair. Draco began softly running his fingertips up and down Hermione's spine. She shuddered in pleasure, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Hermione pressed herself as close as she could get with her growing stomach in the way; she was only partially successful. Draco didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed content to continue kissing her like this for the rest of the night. She would have let him, too, if not for the knock on his bedroom door. They still did not pull apart until the second, more irritated knock came. Draco grumbled unhappily and pulled back. Before he completely extricated himself from Hermione's embrace, he kissed her lightly once, then left a lingering kiss on her forehead. Hermione sighed reluctantly and tried to calm her racing heart. Draco flung the door open to reveal a rather irate Ginny.

"It's about time," she complained. "What in Merlin's pants were you two doing in here anyway?"

Draco glared at her and said, "We were having an important conversation, if you must know."

"Uh huh," she replied skeptically.

"What is it?" he snapped.

"Godric, stop being such a girl. I was just going to tell Hermione that Harry's awake." Ginny shook her head and stomped away.

Draco turned back to face Hermione, and his expression softened. "After you," he said, pulling the door open wider for her and gesturing.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Really, thank you for everything." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, then smiled at him fondly before going back out to the kitchen.

Harry was, indeed, awake. Padma and Ginny had helped him to the sofa, where he rested gingerly. He was completely healed, but he would be quite sore for the next few days. Hermione hurried over to his side and sat next to him.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

Harry sighed. "About as good as one can feel after being hit with a Dark curse, I suppose."

She chuckled ruefully. "I suppose that's true. Do you need anything? Food? Water? Pain potion?"

"No, I'll be fine. I _do_ need a place for my family to stay, though."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I didn't even think of that!"

"Well, I don't want to just crash here with Draco. That's hardly fair; my family's literally twice as big as his. It's not fair to bunk with you, either, 'Mione."

"There's plenty of space for you here in the school, I'm sure. We just have to find it."

"What about the Room of Requirement?" Draco asked from where he leaned against his doorframe. "Didn't your lot use that in seventh year to avoid the Carrows or something?"

"Yes!" Hermione said excitedly. "That's brilliant! And nobody would be able to get in there that you didn't want to!"

Harry nodded. "It's a good idea, but how am I supposed to get up eight flights of stairs?"

"Oh." Hermione's face fell. "Right."

"We're wizards, Potter. We'll figure out something," Draco said.

Ginny made an irritated noise. "You people are so stupid sometimes. If we ask it to, the Room of Requirement could provide us a passage from here to there. Remember the passage from the Hog's Head?"

Hermione smacked her forehead. "Pregnancy brain."

Ginny chuckled. "I know the feeling."

"I'll go get everything set up, then," Draco said. At everyone's confused looks, he explained, "Potter can't do it, for obvious reasons. I assume Ginny will want to stay with him, and Hermione, it would just take you too long. I'm quickest, therefore I will go."

Hermione frowned unhappily. She didn't want him to go alone. A crazy idea flitted into her head that she could just invite Draco and Scorpius to stay with her and Rose. The idea appealed to her immensely, for it would be somewhat like having a normal family again. Like, somehow, none of the horrible events of the last year had happened. She dismissed the idea just as quickly though. She knew how it would look, and she didn't want to leave such a terrible impression with everyone she knew. By the time she came to this conclusion, Draco had already left the apartment.

* * *

 _8 February 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

"Well, Draco, I don't see any way around it," Filius Flitwick squeaked. "We can't allow the children to wander about freely if You-Know-Who is back again."

Draco frowned, but still nodded. He agreed completely, but it wasn't going to be easy. "So what, we're just going to cancel classes? Just like that? That's absurd; those children deserve their education."

"I agree, but what else can we do? The Order of the Phoenix was essentially disbanded after the last war. We didn't anticipate this would ever happen again, and we are simply not prepared to protect the students when they're scattered about!" Professor Flitwick nearly toppled off of the large headmaster's chair at his exclamation.

"Why not gather the students of every year together into one classroom and have the professors rotate?" Draco suggested.

"And we could simply have the house-elves bring meals to the common rooms," Professor Flitwick added.

"Exactly."

"We should at least take the time to charm some secret passages to and from the classrooms we'll use, then. I don't want the students having to wander the halls at all. Perhaps the ghosts would be willing to escort students each morning and evening," he mused.

Draco nodded and frowned as he looked around the headmaster's office. Professor Flitwick hadn't changed anything after his appointment as Headmaster. Dumbledore's portrait still adorned the wall right behind the desk. It was currently empty—he was over in McGonagall's freshly hung portrait, consoling her. She wasn't taking death very easily, it seemed.

"What are we going to do about Voldemort?" Draco finally asked.

Professor Flitwick shrugged his tiny shoulders. "With all of the old leaders of the Order gone now, it almost seems as if reorganizing it is up to me. There is so much work to be done, I just don't know where to start. I'm no Dumbledore, after all."

"Well, you've obviously got the support of every professor here, myself included," Draco said, standing up and beginning to pace in front of the desk. "What we really need to do is find out just what is going to happen. Herm—I mean, Professor Granger and I have already been doing some research. With her condition, she shouldn't jump into any fights, but she could be behind the scenes, doing research and helping with strategy."

"Yes, yes, that's a good idea," Professor Flitwick agreed. "Do you have anything else in mind?"

Draco nodded once. "I know my father is involved somehow. I've been working on a batch of Veritaserum, and it's just been finished. I want to interrogate him and find out what he knows."

"Excellent!" At this, Professor Flitwick _did_ slip off of his chair. He got to his feet and climbed back up, sporting a deep red flush of embarrassment. "I will contact Kingsley Shacklebolt and see if he can ask for assistance from other magical communities nearby. And I think I would be most useful trying to recruit old members of the Order, maybe round up some new ones."

Draco nodded once again. "Is there anything we ought to be telling the other professors?"

"I'll hold an official meeting in a few days' time. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Draco. We may not have a head start this time around, but I am confident that we can still gain the upper hand."

"I know we can, sir."

* * *

 _14 February 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

Draco paced back and forth in his living room, impatiently waiting for Hermione to arrive. Yes it was cliché, and yes they weren't even a week into their relationship, but he fully intended on treating her to a decent Valentine's Day. For all he knew, it could be the last day that they would have to freely celebrate something. War was coming, and there was precious little to celebrate anymore. He planned on making the most of what he had. For once, he wasn't going to take what he had for granted.

He had already planned accordingly—Tonks had agreed to watch Rose and Scorpius immediately. She had even squealed in delight when he'd told her of his plans. Draco would never admit it, but he was secretly pleased that his cousin so heartily approved of his budding relationship with Hermione. It would help to have someone on his side when the news became a bit more…public.

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the soft knock on his front door. Without hesitation, he hurried over and yanked the door open. And there she stood, a soft smile upon her face, looking as beautiful as ever. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to pull her inside and thoroughly snog her on sight.

"Oh, er, come in," he muttered awkwardly. He rolled his eyes at himself as she walked past; he had been hoping to come off as suave and debonair. So much for that idea.

"So, Valentine's Day?" Hermione asked, an eyebrow quirked in amusement.

Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, and certain that he had made a stupid choice in asking her over on _Valentine's_ of all days, he shrugged. "Why not?"

Hermione smiled warmly and moved closer to him. Draco held very still, completely unsure of her intentions. She slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. "I think it's a splendid idea," she whispered.

That self-control that he'd so carefully exercised just moments earlier vanished. He gathered her close and kissed her the way he'd been dying to all day. She responded as enthusiastically as ever, and it completely took his breath away. How had he been fortunate enough to earn the affection of such a wonderful woman?

After several long moments, he pulled back enough to whisper, "I had a dinner planned, but I like where the evening has taken us so far."

Hermione laughed. "Who needs food, right?"

He sighed, kissed her deeply one more time, then replied, "You do. You _and_ Hugo."

"Yeah, yeah."

Draco grinned at her. "You may just find you enjoy yourself anyway."

"Is that right?"

He nodded. "Follow me."

She took his hand, and he led her to Scorpius's room. He had spent hours making the room look more like something out of a quaint French café than a toddler's bedroom. He knew he had succeeded when he heard her gasp of surprise and pleasure.

"Draco, it's beautiful!"

He stood back as she entered the room more fully and examined it. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky—an idea he had obviously stolen from Hogwarts itself—and the walls were charmed to look like the French countryside. Hermione stood in the middle of the room, completely in awe of her surroundings.

Following a somewhat irrational impulse, Draco came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Hermione leaned back against his chest and rested her hands atop his. Instead of being awkward—as he had feared upon first placing his hands on her stomach—it was comfortable. It felt inexplicably right.

"Do you like it?" he whispered in Hermione's ear.

She shivered slightly. "Very much."

"Come on," Draco said after a few content minutes just holding her. "It's time to eat."

He escorted her to the small wrought-iron bistro table and helped her into a matching chair, just as he'd been taught to do by his mother. _Always be a gentleman when you court a woman_ , Narcissa had told him on countless occasions. _It will do wonders for you, I guarantee it._

His mother had been right. As Draco pushed Hermione's chair in, she turned and smiled radiantly at him. He fought back a self-satisfied smirk and instead called for a house-elf as he took his own seat. An elf silently popped into the room, bearing a gleaming silver tray heaped with food. The elf placed the tray on the table, then left after giving a small bow.

For the most part, Draco and Hermione ate in a contented silence, stealing flirtatious glances and smiles every so often. When they had had their fill, Draco waved his wand and soft violin music began drifting through the air. He stood up and offered his hand to Hermione.

"Dance with me."

With another brilliant smile, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Draco drew her into his arms and began spinning them around the room in time to the music. After a few minutes, though, Hermione began to sound out of breath, so he stopped and just swayed with her. She rested her head against his chest, and he tightened his hold on her.

It was absolutely perfect.

When the song ended, Draco pulled back the smallest bit. "I have something for you."

Hermione's eyes widened. "What? You didn't have to get me anything."

"I know." He pulled a small box out of the pocket of his robes and handed it to her. "It's nothing much, really."

She opened it and gasped again. "It's _too_ much!" She held up the thin silver chain; dangling from it was a tiny sculpted dragon, glimmering in the candlelight.

"No, it's not. I didn't spend a knut on it."

Hermione eyed him in confusion.

"I made it."

She smiled mischievously. "Your Transfiguration has really improved."

Draco scoffed and took the necklace from her outstretched hand. "Oh, shut up." He moved around her and clasped the chain around her neck.

She touched it lightly as she turned to face him again. "There's something else to it, isn't there?"

He shrugged. "Protective enchantments, mostly."

"And?"

He rolled his eyes. " _And_ it's a beacon. If you're in trouble, turn it over three times and it will alert me." He held up his right hand to show her a small dragon-shaped ring on his middle finger.

Hermione's eyes softened dramatically, and she moved forward to kiss him again. "I love you," she whispered against his lips.

A jolt went through him at her proclamation, as if he'd been struck by lightning. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed the tip of her nose. "And I love you."

* * *

 _17 February 2007, Malfoy Manor_

* * *

"You're going to talk," Draco told his father in a hard voice. "You've no choice this time."

Lucius raised an eyebrow—the most he could do, as he was once again locked in a Full-Body Bind. "I don't believe you. Again."

Draco shrugged. "That's your problem, then."

He pulled the small vial from the pocket of his robes. The clear liquid was slightly different than last time; it shimmered the smallest bit, proving that it was indeed Veritaserum. Perhaps Lucius noticed this, for his eyes widened the smallest fraction as Draco approached him. He forced Lucius's mouth open and poured the potion into his mouth. His father fought against swallowing for a moment, so Draco waved his wand and forced him to. Lucius glared fiercely.

"Now, tell me what you know about the attack at the Ministry of Magic," he instructed.

Lucius gritted his teeth, trying to keep the words from spilling out of his mouth, but he was unsuccessful. "Death Eaters broke into the Department of Mysteries to steal Barty Crouch's soul."

Draco nodded. "You're telling the truth; I already knew that."

Lucius's glare darkened.

"Now, what do you know about the attack at the Victory Celebration?"

"That was meant to be a statement."

"I thought as much," Draco murmured. Then something occurred to him, and he blurted, "Were you there?"

"Yes," Lucius ground out, his face twitching from trying to hold back the truth.

"How?" Draco asked in bewilderment.

"There are ways around house arrest, you naïve twit," Lucius scoffed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll be more specific. How did you get there, and how did you use magic?"

"Rodolphus Apparated us there. And I was only stripped of my wand. I've been able to perform wandless magic for decades."

Well. Draco certainly hadn't been expecting that last bit of information. "Is Barty Crouch, Jr. alive?" he demanded.

"Yes."

"What is his purpose?"

Lucius frowned in displeasure. "All I was told was that he knew a way to bring back the Dark Lord. I was not privy to the details."

"Oh." Draco had been sure his father knew everything. He had been close to the Dark Lord in the past. Perhaps his previous transgressions had cost him that position. Another thought occurred to him. "Are you an official Death Eater again?"

Lucius scoffed again. "Obviously."

"Obviously," Draco echoed drily. "Does Voldemort have any further plans?"

Lucius shrugged.

"Where is he hiding?"

Lucius shrugged again.

"Where is Crouch hiding?"

Another shrug.

"Do you have any other useful information for me?" Draco finally erupted in irritation.

"That depends on what you consider useful," Lucius sneered. "For instance, I could tell you how to brew the Draught of Living Death, or I could teach you any number of Dark spells. Do you wish to know of any Dark artifacts I may have in my possession? Or what about—"

"Enough!" Draco shouted. "Give me your memories of everything we've discussed. Now."

Without waiting, he placed his wand to Lucius's temple. With another snarl, Lucius relinquished the memories against his will. Draco secured them in a rather large potion vial, placed it in his robe pocket, then spun around and left his father's study. Then he sprinted to his mother's tea room.

"Mother!" he hollered when he burst through the doors. "Call the Aurors immediately!"

Narcissa jumped to her feet in alarm. "Whatever for?"

"He's a Death Eater," Draco snarled ferociously. "He was never sorry for his actions in the last war; he was just waiting for a reason to go back to his old ways."

Narcissa pursed her lips angrily. "Do you want to be here when I call them?"

Draco shook his head. "I've got to get back to Scorp." He took the vial of memories from his pocket and handed them to her. "Give this to the Aurors. It's all the information they will need to arrest him."

She nodded. "I'll owl you once things have settled down."

"I'll be waiting."

With that, Draco Apparated back to Hogwarts. He spent the next four hours pacing his apartment, trying and failing to focus on Scorpius. It wasn't until a small scroll erupted from his fireplace in a short burst of green flames that he was able to relax. He picked up the message and unrolled it.

 _Draco,_

 _Lucius is back in Azkaban, for good this time. I'll be filing for a divorce come Monday. Also, you are no longer disowned, as Lucius no longer has a say in the matter. If you desire, you may move back to the Manor._

 _Love,_

 _Mother_

He sighed in relief, knowing his mother was safe, at least for the time being. But Draco had no intention of moving back to Malfoy Manor or of leaving his position as Potions Master. He enjoyed teaching far more than he'd ever thought he would, and couldn't imagine what he'd do with his time if he were to return to simply being an aristocrat. No, he'd stay at Hogwarts, if not for the job he had grown to love, then for Hermione.


	18. Barty Crouch, Jr

A/N: I've resigned myself to acknowledging that my chapters might remain short for this story from now on. We're nearing the end, guys! I've got a total of 19 chapters plus the prologue and epilogue. That means three more weeks till this story is finished! It's gone by a lot faster than I thought it would, to be honest. I hope you guys have enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it. I'm proud of what I've done here. And as much as I hate begging for reviews, your thoughts and love would be greatly appreciated. It makes me sad when nobody comments on my chapters. :(

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: Barty Crouch, Jr.

 _1 March 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

Hermione frowned as she again went over the information Draco had obtained from Lucius. Something wasn't adding up; while Crouch had been described as Voldemort's most loyal follower, and he was quite adept at torture, nothing else she'd heard about him gave her the impression that he was particularly smart. Not smart enough to have _another_ way to resurrect Voldemort.

She'd done a lot of reading in the last two weeks, and she had yet to discover a method other than Horcruxes that could bring a person back from the dead. That was what confused Hermione the most: what could Crouch possibly know that she couldn't find anywhere, not even the Restricted Section? She sighed in frustration and pushed away from her desk.

Her third year students were currently taking a short exam on their latest unit: Transfiguring small objects into small animals. She'd gone with the same example McGonagall had used in her third year during the lecture, and turned a teapot into a tortoise.

She walked up and down the rows of desks, measuring the progress her students were making. Hermione rested her hands on her stomach, smiling sadly as she felt Hugo kicking. She wished Ron could be there to witness this, for he'd cherished every second of her pregnancy with Rose. Her smile grew a little softer as she thought of Draco. In the few weeks they'd been seeing each other officially, he had flipped some kind of switch in his brain in regards to this baby. Hugo would never truly belong to him, but Draco had begun treating the pregnancy as if he really were the father. He would talk to Hermione's stomach in the evenings after Rose and Scorpius had gone to sleep. When he thought Hermione was asleep, he would sing. Sometimes she faked being asleep just to hear his voice; he was rather good, but she didn't think he'd ever admit it.

In some ways she wished that Hugo _were_ Draco's son, if only to make things easier on the little boy that was soon to come into the world. On the whole, however, she was proud that Ron was the boy's father. Hermione would make sure Hugo knew everything about Ron, down to the last freckle. She hoped he would love his father even though they'd never get to meet.

Hermione shook off her thoughts when the bell tolled the hour. "Pass your scrolls to the front, please," she instructed.

There was some light chatter among the students as they rolled up their exams and sent them forward. Hermione collected them and stowed them in her bag to grade later.

"Line up, everyone."

She was proud that her third years moved immediately into neat rows according to their houses. They were old enough to understand the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in, and so did not argue when it came to the extremely strict way that classes were held now. Hermione knew most of them would prefer that classes continue rather than just sit in their common rooms endlessly. She would have wanted the same.

Hermione hefted her bag onto her shoulder, moved to the front of the line, and led the way through a secret trapdoor that had been recently added to the Transfiguration classroom. They went down a flight of steps into a well-lit corridor that branched in dozens of different directions. It could get confusing, so the students were never permitted to wander the passages alone.

She led the group of forty students down the widest corridor until they reached a large, circular room. The room had only four other doors: one that led to each house common room. Hermione ushered each house through the proper doorway, then waited for confirmation from the house ghosts that the students had arrived.

"All accounted for, Ms. Granger," the Fat Friar said, poking his head through a wall.

"Thank you, Friar."

The ghost saluted once, then retreated. A few moments later, the Bloody Baron floated halfway through the floor. He nodded crisply, then descended again without a word. Hermione shook her head; that ghost was nothing if not morose.

"The Ravenclaws made it, Hermione."

"Thank you, Helena," Hermione replied with a smile. "Have a good evening."

"You too, dear." Helena Ravenclaw then departed.

Several minutes later, Sir Nicholas finally floated down through the ceiling. "Sorry for the delay," he said. "One of the students tripped and twisted an ankle."

Hermione gasped, but was interrupted by the ghost before she could wonder aloud if the student was okay.

"Do not worry. One of the sixth years carried her back to the common room and is healing her ankle as we speak." Sir Nicholas made as if to pat her reassuringly on the shoulder. His hand stopped mere centimeters from her, however. Hermione was grateful; she hated that feeling of being plunged into ice water when she touched a ghost.

"Thank you, Nick. I appreciate that you talked the other house ghosts into helping with the students like this."

"Anything I can do to help."

Hermione smiled quickly at him, then returned to the Transfiguration classroom. From there, she entered her apartment through the back door. She was pleasantly surprised to find Draco waiting for her, lounging on her sofa and reading a book.

"Where are the kids?" she asked quietly.

Draco finished reading the page he was on before tucking a bookmark into the book and closing it. Then he looked up, got to his feet, and walked over to greet her with a gentle kiss. "They're at Dora's for dinner. Teddy wanted them to visit."

"Maybe I could make _us_ something for dinner, then," she replied.

"That sounds great." Draco kissed her again, more deeply than before.

She melted into his embrace, greedily devouring his lips as though she would never get enough. When they broke apart for air, Hermione smacked his arm lightly.

"Keep that up, and I'll never make it to the kitchen!"

Draco grinned roguishly. "Maybe that was the point."

"Well, unfortunately for you, I'm famished. Do you want to help me cook?"

His grin slipped from his face. "Er…I'm really no good in the kitchen. That may not be the best idea."

"Oh no you don't," Hermione teased as she grabbed hold of his sleeve and began towing him in the direction of the kitchen. "You don't have a choice now."

Draco dragged his feet. "Do I have to?"

"Don't make me Imperius you," she threatened jokingly.

"Fine," he huffed.

Draco really was terrible with food, Hermione noticed. She had tasked him with mixing the cookie dough, and he had managed to make something that more resembled cement. In exasperation, she threw a handful of flour in his face. He quickly retaliated by cracking an egg over her head. Soon they had devolved into an all-out food fight, the kitchen was an absolute disaster, and dinner had been completely forgotten.

When there was no more flour left in the jar, Hermione dropped onto a chair. "I'm exhausted." She wiped chocolate syrup off of her face. "And I desperately need a shower."

"Go on, I'll clean up in here," Draco offered.

She smiled warmly at him, then turned to go into the bathroom. She hurried to clean up, then got dressed in her favorite fuzzy pajamas. She reentered the living room to see that Draco had not only cleaned up the mess, but had also ordered dinner for them.

Later, after they had eaten and were snuggling in front of the fire, Hermione finally allowed herself to let go. She had held a bit of herself back, still in mourning for her lost husband. But now things were so different; she hadn't allowed herself to dream that she would feel true happiness again after Ron died. But as she fell asleep in Draco Malfoy's arms, she let down all of her barriers and gave him her whole heart.

* * *

 _4 March 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

"I don't know where else to look," Hermione muttered in frustration.

Draco rubbed her back gently. "I know, love. We'll figure it out."

She shook her head. "It's just that there's nothing else that could bring someone back from the dead besides a Horcrux. But how could Crouch be one? There's nothing to suggest it."

Draco frowned. "Well, Crouch did torture the Longbottoms with my aunt. Maybe there's something in her vault that would tell us."

"Okay. Do you have access to her vault?"

"Yeah. She and Rodolphus didn't have an heir, so when they were sent to Azkaban, everything was left to me."

Hermione nodded. "We could go to Gringotts right now, if you want."

"Might as well," Draco sighed. "We're not getting much done here right now."

They made their way to Diagon Alley as quickly as they could, and were soon sitting within the Lestrange vault, sorting through the various items locked inside. Draco had gone through most of it when it was granted to him in order to dispose of the Dark artifacts. Hermione figured that what they needed wasn't anything like that. She thought that they were likely looking for a book or journal.

It took a surprisingly short time to locate the tome they needed. It was no larger than Draco's hand and was bound with old, cracked brown leather. There was no title etched onto the cover or spine, but Hermione didn't think she'd need one. The spidery handwriting inside of it was more than enough to convince her of its value.

"Draco, I think Voldemort wrote this," she said haltingly.

He took it from her. "That's definitely his handwriting." He flipped through a few pages, then stopped dead and stared at something written there. He didn't speak for several minutes.

Hermione began to worry. "What is it?" she finally asked.

Draco shook his head and met her gaze. "The answer."

"I don't understand."

"Crouch _is_ a Horcrux," he said, sounding absolutely horrified.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Hermione yelled in aggravation.

"It was the answer all along," he growled. "Voldemort turned him into a Horcrux after he killed Marlene McKinnon in the first war. Says so right here."

Hermione took the book back from him. The story was, indeed, written there.

 _I had originally planned on only making seven Horcruxes, but Barty has convinced me that I should make an even number. Specifically, the number eight is associated with gaining power over others. This will make me even stronger, and near impossible to kill. I must admit it is a brilliant idea. So far, I have made six Horcruxes. My diary from Hogwarts, Marvolo Gaunt's heirloom ring, Helga Hufflepuff's cup, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, Salazar Slytherin's locket, and my infant Burmese Python, Nagini. I desperately want to make Godric Gryffindor's sword one of my Horcruxes, but I have no real expectation that I will achieve this. Gryffindor was entirely too noble for his own good, and likely placed some kind of enchantment upon it that will only allow access to the pure in heart. It's disgusting._

The next entry read:

 _It's done. I risked going into a battle yesterday, and was rewarded with killing Marlene McKinnon. She was an insufferable member of Dumbledore's blasted Order. It was a bit unexpected when it happened, however, and I had no reasonable vessel to turn into a Horcrux. Barty immediately suggested that I use him. I must say, it was a stroke of genius. So long as his soul remains intact, the Horcrux remains safe._

Hermione scowled at the little book. "It's despicable."

"Agreed," Draco murmured. He stood up and brushed off his slacks. "Come on, let's go. Bring that with you."

She nodded. They needed to get this information into the right hands. Specifically, she thought Harry would be the best choice. After all, he was the one prophesied to defeat Voldemort once and for all. A scant few minutes later, they were congregating with Harry and Ginny around a large fireplace in the Room of Requirement.

"So what's this all about?" Harry asked, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable.

"It's much simpler than I anticipated," Hermione groused. "It's just another Horcrux."

"Not another one," Harry complained.

"That may not be the worst of it," Draco added solemnly. "The Horcrux is Barty Crouch, Jr."

"Well, at least everything makes sense now," Ginny said wryly.

"Something like that," Hermione murmured. She handed the small book to Harry. "This was written before the night your parents died, but it's got a lot of useful information in it."

Harry sighed heavily. "It looks like I'll be taking a much longer hiatus from Puddlemere than I anticipated."

The foursome looked at each other uneasily. Their lives had changed so much in the last year, but it clearly wasn't over. Hermione frowned deeply. Sometimes she really did wonder if her life would ever settle down. Right now, it seemed like the answer was no.

Just then, Professor Flitwick burst into the room. "We've received a tip!" he squeaked.

"A tip about what?" Draco asked.

"We know where Barty Crouch, Jr. is hiding!"


	19. Seeking the Servant

A/N: Yes, I am posting this a bit early.

My uncle (who was basically my father) passed away on Saturday morning. It was entirely unexpected. He was only 47. I still feel like I'm in some kind of Twilight Zone. I keep expecting to wake up or something; it just doesn't feel real. He left behind my aunt and his six kids. The oldest is only 19, and the youngest is just 7! I've been at a true loss for words for the last two days, which is basically something that never happens to me. Last night, I cried until I gave myself a headache. For those of you that were following along while I posted chapters of Redemption, you know that my grandma died back in March.

Guys, I can't handle any more death. I just...can't.

Anyway, this chapter is pretty fun in my opinion. We finally get a true glimpse of Barty. Before anyone says anything, yes, he is VERY OOC. Do you really think anyone could go through having their soul sucked out through their mouth and then replaced over a decade later without some serious trauma? Cause I certainly don't. Draco is still OOC, but those of you that are still reading know that he will remain this way. Hopefully it's part of the reason you're still reading.

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Seeking the Servant

 _4 March 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

Draco stared at Professor Flitwick in shock. The rest of the room's occupants were stunned into silence as well. Who would have the guts to break the Dark Lord's trust? There were very few people under his employ in the past that were willing to risk their lives by double-crossing him. Surely Voldemort would have thoroughly vetted his Death Eaters this time around.

Finally, Draco managed to speak. "Who sent in the tip?"

"It was actually Severus," Professor Flitwick replied. "He had a hunch about where You-Know-Who might have hidden Crouch. I sent some portraits to their other frames to check it out, and Severus was right."

Harry frowned. "So where is he?"

"He's at the old Lestrange family manor."

Draco scowled. "That sounds about right."

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" Hermione demanded. "He has to be killed if we want to stop Voldemort again."

Harry stood up. "We need a plan before we do anything."

Professor Flitwick nodded his head vigorously. "I've spent the last month contacting old members of the Order and asking them to join up again. So far I've got eight of them, plus six new members."

Ginny bit her lip. "We should also get in touch with any survivors from the final battle. They'll likely want in on this, too."

"Yes, your family have all agreed to help," Professor Flitwick acknowledged.

Hermione frowned deeply. Draco reached out and took her hand, knowing she was thinking of one particular member of the Weasley family that wouldn't be available to help. She glanced at him and gave him a sad smile. He ached to take away her sorrow, but it wasn't something he had the power to do. Instead, he raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. He hoped that the gesture conveyed all of the things he couldn't say just then.

After the silence had stretched to the breaking point, Draco said, "I'd be willing to bet that Blaise and Theo would help, too."

At this, Professor Flitwick actually smiled. "They just happen to be two of the new recruits I told you about. Luna convinced Blaise, and Blaise convinced Theo."

Draco shook his head and chuckled. "Of course."

"What we need to do," Harry said, "is come up with a strategy to infiltrate Lestrange Manor and capture Crouch. Not much else can be done until we've dealt with that Horcrux."

Draco turned to look at Hermione and squeezed her hand. "You're the best at strategy, love. What do you suggest?" He was oblivious to the incredulous stares he received from the other people in the room.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Well, there are bound to be Death Eaters at the manor to protect Crouch. That means we'll need a rather large force of Aurors and Order members to be involved." She turned to Professor Flitwick. "Did Kingsley ever contact the French and Swiss ministries?"

"And the Italian and German ones," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "He got affirmative responses from all four ministers. They will each send one hundred Aurors at the drop of a hat."

"Good. Have Kingsley request that they all be sent over as soon as possible." Hermione looked at Harry speculatively. "You and Ginny should brief the Aurors once they've all assembled. Let them know just what they'll be dealing with, then make sure their dueling skills are up to snuff."

Harry nodded. "Got it."

"What about me?" Draco asked.

Hermione looked at him, worry shining deep in her eyes. "I assume you'll be a part of the team that captures Crouch. You should discuss Death Eater tactics with Harry, then probably help with briefing the new arrivals."

"I can do that."

Frowning, Hermione added, "I can be a communications liaison from here, I suppose."

"Very good. I'll go and Floo Kingsley right away." Professor Flitwick quickly scuttled out of the room.

When the door had vanished back into the wall, Harry turned to Draco with a raised eyebrow. He looked pointedly at Hermione's hand clasped in his. "So, it's 'love' now, is it?"

Draco raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

"A few minutes ago, you called Hermione 'love.' Care to tell us what that's all about?" Harry folded his arms. Next to him, Ginny just smirked.

"Er—" Draco gulped and glanced at Hermione. "Well…"

"Spit it out already!"

Hermione shrugged. It did not look as though she was about to give Harry the news. Great. She was throwing him to the hippogriffs. He vowed retribution, but what he was planning was not something he could do in front of her two best friends. It rather involved a lack of clothing.

"We've been seeing each other for a little over a month now," he choked out.

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And you didn't think that was a bit inappropriate given the circumstances?" He was clearly trying to keep from shouting.

"Harry," Ginny murmured, placing a hand on his arm. He shrugged it off.

"It's not exactly like I pursued her," Draco defended. "It just happened."

Harry scoffed. "How do I know you weren't just taking advantage of her newly single situation?"

"Because I'm not that git you grew up with anymore," Draco snapped, scowling.

"And Hermione!" Harry ignored Draco's last statement and instead turned to his friend. "What are you _doing?_ "

Hermione, clearly having had enough of Harry's antics, stood up and put her hands on her hips. The effect was less intimidating than she was going for, though, because of her pregnant belly. "Harry James Potter, you shut your trap. You have no right to judge me or Draco! I trust him, and as my friend, you should trust my judgment."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I don't want excuses. I thought you were Draco's friend, too. What kind of friend would act like this?"

She didn't wait for him to reply. Instead, she reclaimed Draco's hand and began dragging him toward the passage that connected Harry's apartment to hers. Draco glanced over his shoulder at Ginny and shrugged helplessly. She shrugged in return, and then he was through the doorway, and the Potters were out of sight.

"Hermione, do you think maybe you overreacted a bit back there?" he asked once they had emerged in her apartment and were seated on the sofa.

She snuggled up against his side. "Maybe," she mumbled into his shirt.

He chuckled. "It's really okay, you know. I was expecting some kind of fallout anyway."

She nodded. "Yeah, I was too. That's why I dropped hints when I spent time with Ginny. I think she knew about my feelings for you before I did."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

After a pause, Draco asked, "What's going to happen with the kids when it's time to capture Crouch? I think Dora will want to be a part of that."

"I know she will," Hermione agreed. "I can watch them. And Padma will be here if I need anything."

"Okay." Draco gently lifted her chin with his fingers and kissed her. "I really love you, you know."

Hermione smiled. "I know."

* * *

 _13 April 2007, Lestrange Manor_

* * *

It had taken five weeks to assemble the Aurors and train them to be ready for this operation. Draco hated that they spent even more time delaying offensive measures, but frequent check-ups by the old headmaster portraits ensured that Crouch was still skulking inside Lestrange Manor.

He paced back and forth in the small clearing just outside the manor's grounds. The team of assembled Aurors had been narrowed from six hundred potential fighters to eighty of the best among them. They wouldn't need everyone just yet. It had been determined that there were only ever a maximum of twenty Death Eaters on the premises at any given time. Bringing eighty Aurors was almost overkill, but Harry insisted that it was better to have too many people than too few and wind up dead.

Draco really did have to agree.

All he was doing now was waiting for Hermione to signal that the raid was about to begin. She had created more of her famous DA coins, enchanted with a Protean Charm, to enable everyone to communicate long distance. And so Draco waited for the telltale burning in his pocket so he could signal his team of nine other Aurors to attack.

He was about to send Hermione a message himself when his coin finally heated up. Draco nodded to the rest of his team and pointed toward the southwest corner of the grounds where they would enter. The seven other teams were dispersed around the rest of the perimeter and doing the same.

By some stroke of luck, the German Ministry of Magic had developed a device that could cancel out protective wards within a given radius, and they'd thought to send it with their Aurors. It acted much the same as what Hermione had called a "Signal Jammer," whatever that was.

Thus, Draco and his team snuck up to the huge wrought-iron fence without detection. With a quick swish of his wand, the fence was rendered incorporeal, and the ten men slipped through it and onto the manor grounds. As they hastened to the main house, Draco noticed just how shabby and neglected the gardens had become. The grass was knee-high and could be housing any number of strange magical creatures. The once-neat flowerbeds were overrun with, of all things, Devil's Snare. Draco murmured to the rest of his team to steer clear of the plant. As for the manor, he couldn't remember it ever looking very tidy or welcoming, but the black mold that was creeping up the walls was definitely new, as was the poison ivy covering the windows.

Draco led his team to the southernmost corner of the manor. There was a secret entrance hidden behind an old Flutterby Bush. As he'd suspected, the bush was nearly obscured by overgrown weeds and other strange plants that he couldn't name. He pulled a small potion bottle out of his pocket and poured a single drop on the ground in front of the hidden door. All of the plant life within a four-foot radius blackened and died within seconds.

"Weedosoros?" someone whispered behind him.

He nodded, then beckoned the team forward. Draco pushed against the third brick to the right of where the Flutterby Bush had been, and a section of the wall slid back and to the side to reveal a dark, cobwebby tunnel.

" _Lumos Minimus,_ " Draco whispered. A faint light bloomed from the tip of his wand, illuminating the tunnel just enough for everyone to see where they were walking.

Their first obstacle appeared at the end of the tunnel in the form of a skinny, pale Death Eater. His arms and legs looked as though they were too big for him, and his joints stuck out at odd angles. Draco smirked. This one, at least, would be easy to take down. And he was right. One of his team members, Wiggins, slunk forward and pressed his forefinger against a spot between the Death Eater's neck and shoulder. The man instantly slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Rosavich, another team member, bound the Death Eater with a steel cord, and the team exited the tunnel. Wiggins took the lead, creeping down dusty hallways and peering through doorways. Draco moved to the back of the group, making sure nobody snuck up behind them. He walked with his back to the rest, wand at the ready. He might not have been experienced with combat, but he was _very_ skilled at sneaking and self-preservation.

An angry shout from up ahead had Draco spinning on his heel to see what was going on. Wiggins broke into a run, and the rest of the team followed quickly behind him. They emerged in an enormous—and very dirty—ballroom. It was alight with spells being cast every which way. The Death Eaters had finally discovered that they were under attack.

This was where Draco's part in the mission got a bit more fun, at least for him. He caught Harry's eye from across the room, and they both stole out a side door. Their objective was to find and disarm Barty Crouch.

"You ready?" Harry whispered.

"Damn ready," he murmured. "Let's do this."

Based upon intel gathered from the old headmaster portraits at Hogwarts, they knew that in case of an emergency, Crouch would hole himself up in a room in the center of the manor. The room had no windows and only one door, which was conveniently disguised so it would be harder to locate. It was a secret room of sorts. Fortunately, they already knew where the door was.

Draco and Harry dashed up three flights of stairs, down one hallway, turned right at another, then another right, left, left, right, left. They moved to what seemed to be a dead end. Harry pressed an ancient skull-shaped rosette, and the wall shimmered. It dissolved and exposed the rest of the hallway, which ended in a plain black door. Draco rushed forward and kicked it open.

Barty Crouch jumped up from his chair in front of the fireplace. His stance was wide, his arms akimbo. He was, essentially, the definition of fear. Draco almost felt sorry for him. The man was an absolute wreck. His skin was sallow and hung in folds from his frame. He had deep purple bags under his eyes, and his gaze constantly shifted around the room in a show of paranoia.

"Do you have a wand?" Harry asked calmly.

Crouch trembled from head to toe. "N-no. No."

"I need you to come with me."

He shook his head fiercely. "C-c-can't. My M-master will find out."

"We can help you," Draco said. He had the distinct feeling that Crouch had not survived his soul's replacement completely intact. Something about him screamed for a release from some kind of pain.

"N-nobody can help me," Crouch stuttered.

"We _can_ ," Draco insisted. "At least let us try."

Slowly, hesitantly, the broken man nodded.

Harry took a step closer. "Will you come with us willingly? I don't want to have to tie you up."

"P-please, no. Don't tie me up. N-not again."

Draco shook his head at Harry. Crouch wasn't going to run away. Harry pursed his lips, looking as if he were thinking the exact same thing.

"Will you let me Apparate us out of here?" Draco asked Crouch, approaching cautiously.

He nodded.

"Where are we taking him?"

"Kingsley's place," Harry answered.

"Got it. Meet you there?"

Harry nodded.

Draco turned back to Crouch. "Are you ready?"

Crouch just nodded.

Draco took hold of his elbow, and they vanished from Lestrange Manor with a loud _pop!_ Kingsley was waiting for them in his den. He paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, pale and anxious. Crouch cowered behind Draco when he caught sight of Kingsley. The minister tossed him a confused look.

"He's not…well," Draco tried to explain. "It would seem his, er, procedure didn't go very smoothly."

Just then, Harry Apparated into the room. Kingsley spared him a glance, then returned his attention to Draco.

"Will he run?" he asked.

"I doubt it," Draco said. "He seems terrified of…well, you know."

Kingsley nodded. "Everything went well, Harry?"

"I checked on the situation before I came here, and nearly all of the Death Eaters had surrendered or been tied up. From what I could tell, there were no losses on our side," Harry reported.

"Good," Kingsley sighed. "Thank Merlin."

"Who's going to interrogate him?" Draco asked.

"I will," Kingsley replied.

"All right. If that's everything, I think I'll head home to Scorpius."

Kingsley nodded, and Draco turned to go.

"W-wait!" Crouch screeched. "D-don't leave!" He clutched desperately at Draco's sleeve.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"It's okay. Calm down, Barty. I'll stay if you need me to." Draco patted his arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"This is not the man I remember," Harry muttered.

Draco shrugged. "I guess you can't have your soul sucked out of your body then put back without lasting damage."

"Let's never try it ourselves," Harry suggested with a shudder.

"Agreed."

Harry gave him a curt nod, then turned and left the house.

"Should we get started with Crouch, then?" Kingsley asked.

He turned to look at the frightened man behind him. Crouch's eyes still darted around rapidly; he hadn't calmed down in the slightest. In fact, he was still clinging helplessly to Draco's sleeve.

"He's a bit…fragile," Draco said quietly. "I know he's done a lot of bad things in the past, but I don't think treating him hostilely will work in our favor."

"I agree with you," Kingsley responded. "Let's go in the kitchen, and I'll make some tea. Maybe that will help."

Draco nodded and gently steered Crouch after Kingsley. They walked down a short hallway and into a brightly lit kitchen. Draco sat down, and Crouch followed suit. And then Kingsley was at the table, pouring them each a large mug of tea. It smelled strongly of peppermint.

"So, Barty," Kingsley began, "how are you feeling?"

Draco watched the man in question carefully.

Crouch shrugged, then gulped down a large mouthful of tea. "I think I've been better in the past."

Kingsley nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think you can answer some questions for me?"

He glanced at Draco nervously. "I—I suppose."

"You seem very anxious, maybe even afraid of something. What is it?"

"The Dark Lord," Crouch whispered.

"Why?" Kingsley asked gently.

"He…he isn't the same…"

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He—" Crouch stopped, then shook his head. "No, maybe it's me that's different. I don't know anymore."

"Do you remember anything about your life before you lived at Lestrange Manor?" Draco asked softly.

Crouch nodded slowly. "I was a…Death Eater?" He looked at Draco for some kind of confirmation.

"Yes, that's right. What else?"

"I remember a school…and…and a ferret."

Kingsley smirked across the table at Draco, clearly familiar with the story of how Crouch had Transfigured him into a ferret during the Triwizard Tournament. Draco scowled in response.

"Anything else?" he asked Crouch.

Crouch shuddered. "I was somewhere dark and cold for a really long time. I couldn't see or hear or touch anything. I don't know what happened."

Draco nodded slowly. "That was probably the time you spent locked up in the Department of Mysteries."

"I was locked up?"

"Something like that," Draco muttered. There wasn't really a gentle way of wording what Crouch had been through, and this child-like version of him seemed too vulnerable for the truth.

"Did I do something bad?"

Definitely child-like.

"Yes, Barty, you did," Kingsley said lowly. "But the man you work for, he's done some much more terrible things. We need to arrest him before he can hurt anyone else."

Crouch's eyes widened. "The Dark Lord is a bad man."

Kingsley nodded. "Do you know where he is?"

"There's a cemetery," Crouch whispered. "He has a house there, underground."

"Little Hangleton?"

Crouch nodded.

Draco shifted in his seat. "Kingsley, we should tell him."

The minister closed his eyes and nodded resignedly. "Barty, the Dark Lord did something terrible to you."

"I—I can feel it," he whispered.

Kingsley nodded sadly. "The only way we can really stop him is if he's dead. The problem is that he can't die as long as _you_ are alive."

"That's okay," Crouch whispered. After a pause, he added, "Will it hurt? To die?"

"We can make sure it doesn't," Draco said. "You'll just fall asleep, and that will be it."

He nodded. "All right."

Kingsley stood up. "Come with me. I've got somewhere you can lie down."

He led them down another narrow hallway and into a small office. An old couch sat opposite a desk. Kingsley motioned for Crouch to lie down on the sofa. Draco watched Crouch do just as requested without any complaint. It certainly wasn't the same type of behavior the man had exhibited over a decade ago. Kingsley instructed Crouch to close his eyes; he did, and then Kingsley Stunned him.

"What now?" Draco asked.

Kingsley pulled a small vial out of his pocket. A dark green concoction glistened dangerously within. "Basilisk venom."

Draco shuddered. At least Crouch would be unconscious when the venom entered his bloodstream. He'd heard that it was an extremely painful way to die. Kingsley inserted a needle into the vial and withdrew the contents. Then he swiftly plunged the needle into Crouch's arm and injected the venom. Draco looked away, feeling slightly ill.

Just then, a sleek otter Patronus burst through the door, and Hermione's voice cried out, "The baby's coming!"

* * *

 _13 April 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

Hermione tried to slow her breathing, but it was proving nigh on impossible. Hugo literally could not have picked a worse time to decide her uterus was no longer inhabitable. Harry, Ginny, Draco, Tonks, Remus…none of them were here, and she was panicking. She couldn't do this alone. And it was too soon for her to be in labor anyway! She still had nearly four weeks left of her pregnancy!

Another contraction hit her then, and she doubled over in pain. Where were Draco and Harry? She'd sent her Patronus to each of them nearly twenty minutes ago, and still they were nowhere in sight. Her level of panic rose another notch. Fortunately, she'd had the foresight to ask Neville to watch the kids when her water broke. They were currently at his little cottage in Hogsmeade—well warded, of course—enjoying dinner with Neville and his one-year-old daughter Indrina.

"Hermione!"

She straightened up enough to see Draco burst through her front door. She sighed in relief. "Thank Merlin you're here."

Draco rushed over to her and helped her to sit on the sofa. "What can I do?"

Hermione took a slow, deep breath. "Call for Padma," she panted, "then find Harry!"

"Hang in there, love," he murmured.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco flick his wand and send his Patronus to do as requested. Then he slid closer to her on the couch, wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and took her hand in his. She clutched his hand tightly, desperately.

"Oh, Draco, I can't do this!" she moaned.

His grip on her hand tightened. "Yes you can," he said calmly. "You survived a war. Everything else after that is easy."

Hermione took another deep breath and nodded. "Don't leave me." She knew she wasn't just referring to her current situation. She didn't think she would survive if she lost someone else that she loved so deeply.

"Never."

She turned her head and met his eyes. Just like always, she got lost in their depths. And in them, she saw the sincerity of his statement. Hermione leaned forward and captured his lips with hers. She broke the kiss mere moments later when another contraction tore through her. She rested her forehead against his chest as she rode out the wave of pain.

Just then, the front door banged open again. "Hermione! I'm here!"

It was Harry, and he had Ginny right behind him.

Ginny dashed over and knelt on the floor in front of Hermione. "Godric, are you okay?"

Hermione clenched her teeth, but nodded anyway.

Harry knelt beside his wife and took Hermione's free hand. "I'm so sorry it took me so long to get here."

She shook her head. "Never mind that now."

* * *

Exactly two hours and forty-three minutes later, an exhausted and sweaty Hermione clutched newborn Hugo to her chest as she lay in bed. She was in Rose's room—it had been temporarily converted into a makeshift hospital room for ease of access. As she watched her son, she thought that he was a bit on the small side. But he had been given a clean bill of health despite his early birth. He had a full head of curly brown hair and Ron's baby blue eyes. Hermione already loved him so much. He slept with his head right over her heart, and her index finger clutched tightly in one little fist.

"Hey." Draco poked his head into the room.

"Hey yourself," Hermione murmured sleepily.

"How are you?"

She shrugged. "Tired."

Draco smiled. "I can imagine."

"Come here," she said, patting the space beside her. "I miss you."

"Already?" he chuckled as he walked across the room to her.

"Mmhmm." Hermione closed her eyes and rested her head against the pillow behind her. "Mmm…Love you, Draco."

She felt him take her free hand and kiss it softly. "I love you, too."

"So what happens now?" she whispered.

"I don't really know," he admitted. "I've never actually been in a situation quite like ours before."

Hermione chuckled. "I don't think anyone has."

"I-I've been thinking…" Draco's voice trailed off uncertainly.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked at him. "That's good. Thinking is healthy."

He shook his head, grinning. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Yeah, I know." She smirked at him.

"Anyway, I've been thinking that maybe…well, you're going to need help with Hugo, and there's not really anyone else available…"

Hermione smiled and squeezed his hand, which still clasped hers tightly. "Draco, spit it out already."

He swallowed nervously, then blurted, "D'youwannamoveintogether?"

"Come here, you idiot," she said affectionately.

Draco slid closer, and she yanked on his hand so that he fell forward. She kissed him deeply. "Yes."

He sighed in relief. "Oh, thank Merlin."

Hermione smirked at him. "Were you _nervous_ , Draco Malfoy?" She completely expected him to deny such an absurd accusation.

He didn't. "I've never been quite so scared to do anything in my entire life."

She shook her head good-naturedly at him. "You're ridiculous, you know."

Draco grinned and kissed her again. "That's why you love me."

After a little pause, Hermione asked, "Do you want to hold Hugo?"

"Oh, er…" Draco's eyes were wide.

"Come on. I already know you love him."

He flushed slightly but nodded.

And Hermione knew instantly, based on the tender look upon Draco's face, that he would move heaven and earth to keep Hugo safe.


	20. Back to Something Better

A/N: So, I decided to combine this last chapter with the epilogue, since my OCD kicked in and told me that my total chapter number couldn't be 21. *Shrug* At any rate, I hope you all enjoy the final chapter of Darkness Unvanquished. It has been a fun story for me to write. I'll be working on my fic for the upcoming H&V Fest (which you won't see till February. Sad face) but after that, I've got the most amazing idea ever planned. It's Dramione, because DUH, and it'll take place during the 90's Hogwarts years. For now, enjoy this final chapter, and let me know what you think of the ending. I hope it wasn't too rushed.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Back to Something Better

 _14 April 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

"Voldemort knows."

Hermione continued to play with Hugo's hair instead of looking up at Harry. "About Crouch, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Harry, I don't need you to have one of your visions to know that Voldemort is aware of Crouch's death. We didn't exactly make a secret of it. Besides, he had Death Eaters watching Lestrange Manor. They were bound to figure it out once they found out about the raid."

He sat down on the sofa beside her. "True. Guess my trip down here was wasted, then?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course not, you prat."

"So how's Rose doing with Hugo around?"

"She's actually due to come meet him in a few minutes. Draco went to pick her and the other kids up from Neville." She looked up at her friend to see a fierce scowl upon his face.

"Hermione, I really don't think that you seeing him is a good idea," he started. "You've been in an emotionally vulnerable state, and I'm worried that he's just taking advantage of that."

She shook her head. "You should see him with the kids, Harry. He really has changed. He loves me."

Harry's eyes widened. " _Love_?" he whispered.

"I love him, too."

He was stunned into silence.

"Harry, as much as I know that you'll always be around for me, Rose, and Hugo, you have your own boys to take care of. Draco is willing and able to be around every single day." She hesitated before saying, "He's going to move in with us."

"Hermione, I—"

She shook her head. "It's okay. I understand why you're worried. Please trust me. Trust _him._ "

After a long moment, he nodded. "Okay. I'll try."

"Thank you. That's all I ask."

Harry watched her in contemplative silence for a moment. "Can I hold Hugo?"

Hermione smiled and passed him over. "He's going to love you so much," she said quietly. "You'll have to tell him all about the trouble you and Ron used to get into."

"I promise."

"You and Ginny will be his godparents, too?"

"Of course. I'd be offended if you asked anyone else."

She laughed. "Good."

Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder and watched her baby boy sleep in his godfather's arms. A few minutes later, the front door opened, and Draco came in, escorting Rose, Scorpius, James, Rhys, and Teddy. He was laughing at something Teddy had just finished saying, and Rose held onto his index finger, toddling along next to him.

"Rosie!" Hermione called out.

"Mama!" Rose let go of Draco's hand and hurried over as fast as her short legs would carry her. "Me see Eena!"

"I know! Did you have fun with Uncle Neville and Drina?"

Rose nodded her head.

"There's someone I want you to meet," Hermione said as she lifted Rose to her lap.

"Baby?" Rose asked.

Hermione nodded. "Hugo got here yesterday when you were with Uncle Neville."

Harry shifted on the couch so that Hugo was facing Rose. Her eyes went wide and she reached her chubby hand out toward him. Her mouth opened in a little O of wonder.

"Do you love him?" Hermione asked softly.

Rose nodded solemnly. "My baby."

"Yeah, Rosie, he's your baby, too."

"Okay, Rose. Let's go play in your room," Harry said.

Draco stepped forward and carefully took Hugo from him. Hermione could tell it was hard for Harry to accept, but he quickly stood and scooped Rose into his arms to hide his discomfort. He tossed her high in the air and caught her, and she laughed happily.

"More!" she cried.

Harry acquiesced, and she giggled again. "Come on, Jamie. Let's go play! You too, Scorp! Teddy, will you grab Rhys?"

The small children ran to Rose's room, shouting excitedly, with Teddy following quickly in their wake. Hermione smiled after them, then turned her attention back to Draco. He was busy looking down at Hugo—still fast asleep—with a deeply affectionate expression on his face. He had slipped one of his fingers into Hugo's tiny hand and was whispering to him. Hermione stilled so she could hear him better.

"…going to love your mum. She's the most amazing, beautiful woman I've ever known. And even though I really didn't like your dad, I promise I'll only ever tell you good things about him." Draco hugged Hugo a little closer and kissed his tiny forehead. "I hope I'll be around for a long time, you know, if your mum will have me. And…I really want to be your dad, if you'll let me. You won't have to call me that if you don't want to, but I hope you'll let me be that figure in your life. Cause even though we've only just met, I love you already."

When Draco finished his little speech, he looked up. Hermione quickly pretended she was asleep. She really was tired, after all. She felt Draco sit on the sofa next to her.

"Hermione, love," Draco murmured.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. She actually had to stifle a yawn. "Hmmm?"

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

She nodded and followed Draco to her bedroom. He carefully laid Hugo in his bassinet before coming to sit beside Hermione on the bed; she had already snuggled deep under the covers. He reached out and began stroking her hair, and she smiled at him.

"Stay with me?" she mumbled sleepily.

Draco leaned over and kissed her. "Always."

He carefully climbed over her and lay down. Then he draped his arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. Hermione scooted so that her back was flush against his front, and sighed in contentment. Draco began rubbing soothing circles on her stomach. But instead of the act lulling her to sleep even more, Hermione felt herself awake with a renewed vigor. She turned over in his arms and hungrily claimed his lips in a kiss.

Draco seemed momentarily caught off guard, but quickly responded with great enthusiasm. Hermione delighted in the fact that her pregnant belly was gone so that she could press herself more fully against him. Oh, she had missed this level of intimacy so much. The craving for it nearly exploded in her chest, and she was suddenly letting her hands wander underneath his shirt and roam over his muscular chest.

He growled low in his throat and tightened his arms around her. Hermione lightly raked her fingernails down his chest, and he broke away only to begin trailing kisses along her neck and across her collarbone. And then Draco rolled over and pinned her to the bed before capturing her lips in another spine-melting kiss.

Hermione moaned needily, and before she could stop herself, she had ripped his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. She eyed Draco's muscular chest briefly, then leaned forward and bit his shoulder. That seemed to send him over the edge, for then their clothes were flying every which way. She kissed him again, letting every emotion she had flow through the connection of their lips.

Draco deepened the kiss, twining his tongue with hers. Hermione felt as though she would spontaneously combust from the sheer passion of it all. Later, after they made love for the very first time, it was like Hermione's broken world had finally been pieced together again.

* * *

 _1 May 2007, Hogwarts_

* * *

"So let's go over the plan again," Harry said.

Draco frowned. "I still don't understand how we're going to sneak up on the graveyard."

"I'm not sure about that part of the plan either, Harry," Hermione agreed, reaching out and taking Draco's hand in hers. He turned to her and smiled affectionately. She pursed her lips. "I just don't think Apparating directly there is an option. It's too dangerous."

Harry was silent for several minutes, toying with Ginny's fingers. "Well, what if we all Portkeyed in simultaneously?" he finally suggested. "It was a good way to catch me off guard during the Triwizard Tournament, and maybe they won't be expecting us to repeat such an obvious move."

"That's a great idea," Ginny said enthusiastically.

"So that will get us to the graveyard." Hermione said. "I'll make the Portkeys. The next part of the plan should still work. The team of Italian Aurors will quickly remove the ground above the hideout. Although, I really hate the idea of desecrating a graveyard. Damn Voldemort for choosing such a place for his headquarters."

Draco's eyes popped open wide. "I'm not so sure there _will_ be any bodies left to desecrate." Everyone in the room looked up at him. "Voldemort really likes Inferi, remember?"

Kingsley spoke up for the first time since they'd begun their meeting. "Merlin, you're right. Is there an easy way to defeat them?"

"The only thing that protected Dumbledore and I in the cave was Fiendfyre," Harry said.

Draco shook his head. "That's too dangerous with so many people around. Fiendfyre is near impossible to control."

"Then it sounds like what we need to do is send the Fiendfyre to the graveyard first. If we have some way to monitor it and enclose it, we can go in when it burns itself out. The Inferi should all be gone by then," Hermione said. She turned to Draco. "The Fiendfyre was contained at Hogwarts during the final battle because it was inside the Room of Requirement. We need a similar boundary to go up around the graveyard."

"What about the ward around Hogwarts? The one that keeps unwanted people out?" Ginny asked.

Kingsley shook his head. "That's no good, because then we may not be able to find it again."

"We need to be careful about this," Hermione said. "We can't afford any mistakes."

Draco's brow furrowed. Something was off. "Potter, how did you and Dumbledore escape if he used Fiendfyre? There wasn't really anything there to contain it or protect you."

Harry looked mystified. "I guess I just assumed Dumbledore was a powerful enough wizard to control it."

"No, that's not how it works. Power really has nothing to do with it. Fiendfyre burns until there is nothing left for it to destroy; if it's not properly contained, it could essentially burn indefinitely."

"Then that's probably not what Dumbledore used, since I'm clearly still alive." Harry chuckled ruefully.

"What was the fire like?" Hermione asked. "How did it behave?"

"Dumbledore was able to fully control it. I remember thinking it looked somewhat like a lasso coming from his wand."

Draco nodded. Of course. "That was a Firestorm, not Fiendfyre."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Well that's easy, then! A Firestorm is easily controlled so long as the casters know what they're doing."

"So then we should have a team of Aurors cast the Firestorm before the Italian Aurors go in?" Harry asked.

"Exactly," Draco said.

"I actually know several wizards that are experts at handling the spell," Kingsley said. "I'll talk to them about our change in plans."

"Thank you, Kingsley," Harry said.

He simply nodded, then took his leave from Hermione and Draco's apartment. Harry stood up and began pacing in front of the sofa. Draco watched his progress, wondering when the Boy Who Lived would finally just say what was on his mind.

Several minutes later, he finally said, "What if I'm not good enough?"

So _that's_ what was bothering him. "You've beaten Voldemort twice, and thwarted his schemes countless times. Trust me when I tell you that you will succeed. And this time will be the last time you will have to."

Harry stared at Draco. "Never thought I'd hear _you_ of all people giving me a pep talk, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. "Believe me, neither did I."

"He's right though, Harry," Hermione said gently. "You have the support of nearly every witch or wizard you've ever met. There's almost no way this plan can fail now."

Harry looked at his best friend. "Will you come with me, 'Mione? I mean, be a part of my team and all?"

She shook her head, grinning. "Of course I will. I'd be furious if you didn't let me."

Draco wasn't sure how he felt about her charging into battle so soon after giving birth. And that wasn't even factoring in how much he needed her to survive the coming fight. He knew he wouldn't be able to live without her by his side.

"If you're with Potter, so am I," he said briskly, looking at Hermione.

"What? Why?" Harry asked, blinking in confusion.

Draco gave him a look that clearly said he was missing something of vital importance, then turned to face Hermione. "If you think I'd let you risk your bloody life without me by your side, you've gone mental. I won't let you out of my sight when there's a battle raging around us; you might get hurt or something, and I—" He cut off abruptly, unable to find words to express just how much he would lose should she die.

"Oh, Draco. Of course you're coming with me. I wouldn't have it any other way." She placed her free hand on his cheek. "I won't risk losing you, either."

He nodded. After a short pause, he leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. He had to make sure she knew how much she meant to him before going off to fight. If, Salazar forbid, something were to happen to either of them, it was of utmost importance that Hermione know that he did it all for her.

Draco only broke away from Hermione upon hearing Ginny say, "Awww!" in a cooing voice. The high-pitched sound accompanied the dulcet tones of Harry fake-retching into the fireplace. Hermione smirked at him, and instead of discontinuing their previous activity, Draco engaged her in a full-out snogging session. Just to irk Potter. It was the most fun he'd had in ages.

* * *

 _2 May 2007, Little Hangleton Cemetery_

* * *

Hermione clung desperately to the happy thoughts of her children and Draco as she waited for the group of specialized wizards to defeat the last of the Inferi. Surprisingly, there had been fewer reanimated corpses than she had anticipated, which was a welcome relief. There were still some stragglers, however, so three members of the Firestorm Aurors were essentially herding the last few dozen Inferi toward the rest of the team; they had constructed a small cage that functioned somewhat as a cremation chamber. Fortunately, it was very effective.

Draco came up beside Hermione and took her hand. She glanced at him and gave him a grim smile before returning her focus to the macabre rodeo in front of her. Aside from the awful noises of the Inferi as they perished, the graveyard was hellishly silent.

Several minutes later, when the Firestorm Aurors had completed their job, the team of Italian Aurors quietly stepped forward and, with a unified and barely audible " _Wingardium Leviosa,_ " began levitating away the dirt, rocks, and grass in a ten-meter radius around Tom Riddle, Sr.'s grave. Harry had figured it was the most likely location for Voldemort's hideout, even though the Dark Lord had supposedly detested his Muggle father.

"I find it highly ironic that we're doing this today, of all days," Draco murmured.

Hermione chuckled. "It is a bit like fate, isn't it?"

"Or karma."

She nodded thoughtfully.

Just then, Harry stepped to the front of the group. Rather than speak loud enough for everyone to hear him—for fear that Voldemort and the Death Eaters would hear—he waved his wand and a long golden ribbon emerged from the tip. It instantly reminded Hermione of their very first night at Hogwarts when Dumbledore had led the students through the school song.

 _Thank you for being here everyone,_ the ribbon spelled out. _It seems almost prophetic that we're about to engage in this battle today: the ninth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. We have done all we can to ensure that this battle will be the last. All available evidence points to it being the end of a very long and terrifying time for the Wizarding world. I do not wish for anyone to die here tonight, but should the unthinkable happen, know that you have done it for the good of the entire world, not just the Wizarding world. Remember to stay with your group at all times, watch each other's backs, and hopefully we will all walk away from this. Good luck._

And then it was time.

The Italian Aurors had disrupted the ground in such a way that there was a makeshift staircase leading down toward the stone bunker. Harry led the fighters down the steps quickly. Hermione clutched Draco's hand tightly as they followed Harry, Ginny, Tonks, Remus, Neville, and Padma. It didn't take very long for the Death Eaters to figure out that something was happening, even though they'd been very careful while excavating the battlefield.

They'd had enough of a surprise that the Death Eaters were unable to cover their faces, and most were easily identifiable. Hermione caught glimpses of Lucius Malfoy—who had apparently been broken out of Azkaban—both Averys, Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr., Rosier, Macnair, and Selwyn. She followed Harry past that group, and briefly registered that Blaise, Theo, and Luna were charging at them. Harry was leading their group to the center of the fight—straight to Voldemort.

The sooner this ended, the better.

Four Death Eaters that Hermione didn't recognize rushed toward her group. Draco immediately stepped in front of her to help Harry defeat the them. Hermione rolled her eyes in irritation. It wasn't as if she couldn't fight, too. She'd have to have a word with Draco about that later.

Hermione stepped around Draco to make sure that their pathway forward was clear. It wasn't. At least a dozen other Death Eaters were blocking their advance. She cast a Stunning Spell, Conjunctivitis Curse, Blasting Hex, and Disarming Spell in quick succession. She managed to take down two of the Death Eaters. Meanwhile, Neville and Padma had incapacitated two others, Draco three, Tonks and Remus five, and Harry and Ginny had taken care of the last two. Damn, they were efficient.

Draco took her hand once more as they continued to the door of the stone bunker. Hermione kept expecting Death Eaters to jump out at them from every ominous shadow, but they somehow managed to make it to the door and inside the bunker without further incident.

Their good luck didn't last beyond that.

As the eight friends rushed through the door of the bunker, a crowd of Death Eaters rushed toward them.

"Go!" Remus shouted. "We'll hold them off!"

Harry glanced at Hermione, and Hermione looked at Draco. The three nodded at each other, then hurried off to find Voldemort. Neville, Padma, Tonks, Remus, and Ginny stayed behind to buy them some time.

Hermione gulped nervously. She really hoped this would end well.

Voldemort walked out of an adjoining room, wearing a self-satisfied smirk and twirling his wand in one hand. "I wondered when you would get here."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. He'd been expecting them?

"What are you talking about?" Harry snapped.

"You think I didn't know you'd come after me?" Voldemort sneered. "That you'd find out where I was staying? You think I didn't plan for this?"

Hermione stared at him in horror. This had to be a trap of some kind. They had to get out of there. "Harry," she muttered, grabbing his arm.

He shook her off. "No, I won't run, Hermione. Tom here has spent his last day terrorizing the world. I don't care if he had this planned from the beginning; it ends today."

Voldemort smirked. "Go ahead and try."

"Crouch is dead," Draco said loudly. "There's nothing left to stop you from dying."

"Ah, young Draco," Voldemort said softly, turning his gaze away from Harry. "Your father has informed me of your treachery."

Draco scoffed. "It's not treachery if I finally wised up and joined the right people."

"So you say."

"Is social hour over now?" Harry asked impatiently. "I'd much rather not prolong this encounter."

"Very well," Voldemort said in a pseudo-considerate tone. "Wands at the ready, you three."

Hermione gripped her wand tightly in her right hand. She squeezed Draco's hand one last time, then let go and shifted into a fighting stance. Without consulting either man at her side, she decided that she would be the defensive fighter. Harry was used to her taking this position, and she knew she wouldn't have to tell him. However, Draco wasn't as aware of this. Hermione turned to him and mouthed, "I'm on defense." He frowned at her for a second, but nodded anyway. She mentally crossed her fingers that he'd understood.

And then the fight was on. Bright beams of light flashed and bounced around the room as each man tried to incapacitate their opposition. Hermione paid close attention to every curse and hex that Voldemort cast and made sure to deflect them. Some spells bounced off of the floor, walls, or ceiling, while others blasted holes through the stone or lit small fires.

As much as Hermione knew Harry's strong fighting technique, she still knew that he preferred not to use deadly spells. Therefore, she was surprised as she watched him cast spells that were borderline Dark. None of them were _technically_ illegal or particularly deadly, but they were frowned upon. And maybe that was the only way they would be able to win this fight.

Her concentration only wavered for the smallest moment as she noticed this, but it was enough for Voldemort to seize an opportunity. A quick flash of purple light later, and Draco was on the floor, unconscious and with blood tricking from his mouth. Hermione felt an incredible rage at the sight of him prone like that. A burst of renewed energy had her not only blocking all of Voldemort's spells, but also casting offensive ones back at him.

It was too much for her to maintain for long, though. All too soon, Voldemort sent a curse her way. Hermione was just a second too slow, and it hit her square in the chest. The wind was knocked out of her as she landed on her back, hard. She watched helplessly as Harry was left alone to fight Voldemort. She tried to get back to her feet, but a spasm of pain shot through her back, causing her to drop to the floor once more. Something was broken.

Hermione's vision began to flicker to black, though she fought it with all her might. It was a losing battle. Just before she lost consciousness, she observed one last, fateful thing:

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

Twin beams of light, one red and one green, connected in midair, and both wizards were blasted off their feet.

* * *

 _Five Years Later_

* * *

Draco nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, carrying a silver platter laden with breakfast in his hands. He walked through the rows of bookshelves until the bed came into sight. Hermione and the kids were still asleep; she was cuddling six-year-old Rose on one side, and five-year-old Hugo on the other. Seven-year-old Scorpius was fast asleep, curled up with his head on her stomach. Draco smiled fondly at his family. He'd never dreamed that he could be this happy.

"Hey, sleepy heads. It's time to wake up," he said quietly.

Hugo was the first to stir. He blinked sleepily, then rolled out of his mother's embrace. "Daddy," he said softly. He stood up and walked across the bed to where Draco stood. "Morning."

"Good morning, son. Did you sleep well?" Draco smiled down at him.

He nodded. "Breakfast?"

"In bed," Draco whispered conspiratorially. "Shall we wake your brother and sister now?"

Hugo grinned. "Yeah."

Draco set the tray on the bedside table, then approached Hermione's left side, where Rose was snuggled up. Hugo slid closer to Scorpius, and poised as if to pounce upon him.

"Ready? Now!"

Draco reached out and tickled Rose ferociously as Hugo jumped on Scorpius's back. All three occupants of the bed awoke with a start. Rose rolled over and shoved at Draco's hands, trying to stop him from tickling her, all while shrieking with laughter. Scorpius had rolled over and pinned Hugo to the bed, and was currently chafing his fist back and forth on Hugo's head. Hugo squirmed and tried to find safety back at Hermione's side.

Hermione, meanwhile, smirked at her children and husband. After a few more rowdy seconds, Draco released Rose; Scorpius reluctantly stopped harassing Hugo.

"Morning, love," Draco said to Hermione. He leaned over and kissed her deeply.

"Eww! Mum!" Scorpius cried. "That's gross!"

Hugo pretended to puke on Hermione's pillow.

"Yuck." Rose hid her face in her hands.

Draco chuckled at the kids' antics and prolonged the kiss just a bit longer. Hermione finally had to push him backward; he may have let himself get a bit carried away for a minute there.

"What smells so good?" Hermione asked, smiling widely.

"Breakfast, obviously," Draco replied.

"Oh, yeah! Happy Birthday, Mum!" Scorpius shouted.

Rose hugged Hermione around the neck. "I love you, Mummy."

"Me too!" Hugo cried.

"Happy Birthday, love." Draco retrieved the tray and set it on her lap.

Hermione's smile grew even wider. "There's plenty to share. D'you want breakfast in bed, too?"

"Yeah!" the kids chorused.

Grinning, Draco moved to the other side of the bed and climbed in. "We've got to eat fast," he said as he plucked a blueberry muffin from the tray. "We're going to Uncle Harry's in an hour."

"Yay!" Rose shouted. "I wanna see baby Lily!"

Draco chuckled. "I still find it hilarious that Potty managed to talk Weaselette into naming their daughter Lily," he mused.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his favorite nicknames for her two best friends. "I agree completely, especially after the fit Ginny threw when Rhys was born."

"Luckily we won't have that problem," he replied, resting a hand on her stomach.

She placed a hand on top of his and smiled fondly down at her pregnant belly. "No, we won't."

* * *

 _And they all lived_

 _Happily Ever After._

 _THE END_


	21. Note from Author

Hi everyone. I've long been dissatisfied with how this story turned out. I think I was in a bit of a rush to finish it so I could start on some new projects I was rather excited to work on, which was a sloppy decision as a writer. So I'm posting this little note as a request for feedback about a rewrite. I've been considering working on a rewrite when I've eventually finished up what I'm currently working on. Is that something you would like to see? I know a lot of you have expressed concern about Draco's quick jump to being "in love" with Hermione, so that's a point I would definitely work on. What else would you recommend I work on? The overall plot would remain the same, but I would probably try to extend the story some. Anyway, leave a comment and let me know:

1\. Should I invest the time in a rewrite?

2\. What things would you most like to see fixed if I do a rewrite?

3\. What things would you most like me to KEEP if I do a rewrite?

Thanks you guys. Without you, I probably would have abandoned writing fanfiction a while ago.


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